


31 Day Angst Challenge--Oneshots

by Bow_Woww



Series: 31 Day Angst Challenge [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 31 day angst challenge, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Cliffhangers, EVERYTHING HAS A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR, Forbidden Love, Hanahaki Disease, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Medical Emergency, Mild Blood, Mind Control, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, Panic Attacks, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Tags to be added, body image issues, concubine/king au, major character illness, medical distress, mentions of past trauma, mild violence, oneshots, past self harm, poor self esteem, sad victor, there's some pretty variable levels of angst in here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 07:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow_Woww/pseuds/Bow_Woww
Summary: A collection of oneshots for the 31 day angst challenge. Warnings will be posted before every chapter.Day 2: WeakDay 3: JealousyDay 4: Terminal illnessDay 5: Forbidden loveDay 6: Mind control
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: 31 Day Angst Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726732
Comments: 27
Kudos: 91





	1. Weak

**Author's Note:**

> CW for this chapter: Implied/referenced self harm, past self harm, panic attacks, anxiety, body image issues, poor self esteem
> 
> I promise it's actually much more uplifting than it sounds :)

Yuuri stared at the mirror in front of him, his hands gripping the sink so tight his knuckles were white. He stared at the naked reflection in front of him, self-hatred and disgust twisting in his stomach. He was a mess. A failure. A disappointment. A burden. Tears dripped down Yuuri’s cheeks, plopping on the sink in front of him. His heart beat erratically in his chest, worsening with each labored intake of air. 

It was stupid, so stupid, the little thing that set him off. He’d been doing so well on his meds and with his coping mechanisms, so the panic attack caught him by surprise. All he meant to do was hop in the shower, but as soon as he’d undressed and taken a look at his flabby, off season body, it hit him. A few weeks off, and he fell apart. Victor still looked perfect, because of course he did, but Yuuri could see the rolls starting to soften his body, where chiseled muscle once sat. Yuuri released his grip on the sink, letting one shaky hand caress his stomach. He traced the stretch marks across his belly and around his hips, then down on his thighs. 

Disgusting. All of Victor’s hard work to get him in shape, and this is how he was going to repay his coach and fiance? Why couldn’t he just say no to those second helpings, or lay off the carb-laiden treats? 

He was weak. He was too weak to stop himself from overeating. He was too weak to tell Victor what was going on. And, he was too weak to maintain his streak. It was going to end today, and Yuuri knew it. The anxiety had been building enough that he’d done what he promised he wouldn’t do and snuck a razor into their apartment. Victor had stopped asking him about it, since it had been so long without a relapse. That made it all too easy to sneak it in and hide it in his sock drawer. All he had to do was retrieve the razor while Victor wasn’t looking, and then lock himself in the bathroom. Which he’d done. Victor wouldn’t know. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Victor knew every inch of his body. If there was a new cut, Victor would see. He would know Yuuri was weak. 

Yuuri gasped out another sob, putting a hand over his mouth to cover the noise. He didn’t need Victor to hear him and try and stop him. He _hated_ that this was the only thing that would calm him down, but he needed it. He needed the pain. He needed to cut through the fog in his head, and stop the spiraling panic. He just hoped one cut would be enough. It wouldn’t be all that hard to make it look like a deep scratch from Makka’s nails. He’d done it before, and Victor never figured it out. Or, he could pretend to cut himself on a nail. Then he wouldn’t have to hide the cut. Victor would help him clean up, and kiss the bandage that he put over it. That was better than trying to hide it. 

He wished he didn’t have to lie at all, but he was weak. 

Yuuri picked up the razor in unsteady hands, staring down at the innocuous item. It was tempting, so tempting. Just one little cut, that’s all he needed. 

_You’ll need more. You always do. Because you’re weak._

He hated how much he craved the sharpness on his skin. Breaking his streak now would open the door, he knew that. It was never just “one more”, it always turned into more. That was how Victor found out in the first place. One little cut here and there was easy to hide. When they got deeper and more numerous, that was harder. How could he have explained the rows of perfectly straight scars on his hip as anything else? 

Victor would be so disappointed when he found out. He’d been so upset when he found out the first time. But Yuuri needed it. No, he didn’t just need it, he deserved it for letting himself get to this point. Victor wouldn’t want him anyway when Yuuri continued to let himself go, so who cares if he got a little upset about some new cuts? Was that really any worse than the pudgy blob he was turning into?

Before Yuuri could even think about it, the razor was on his skin. It would just take a little bit of pressure, and he’d have relief. Just one, and no one would know. Right over his arm. No one would think that he would self harm in such an obvious spot, so it would be easy to blame on Makka getting too rowdy. He’d just have to make the scar look a little more jagged to pretend he got caught by a claw. 

But he’d worked so hard to stop. Victor helped him find a therapist in St. Petersburg that Yuuri liked. Victor made sure Yuuri practiced the coping mechanisms he was taught. Victor helped him through his anxiety when it seemed like a razor was the only choice. 

Yuuri didn’t want to relapse. He was proud of how long it had been, and he didn’t want to reset the clock. But god, he needed that release so bad. He needed…

He didn’t want to. Yuuri managed to dig his phone out of his pants, which were discarded on the floor. He couldn’t make himself put down the razor, but he managed to type out the message with his free hand: 

**Yuuri** : I need help

It only took a few moments to hear frantic footsteps outside the door, followed by the doorknob jiggling. Yuuri reached over and undid the lock, and Victor threw the door open immediately. He scanned Yuuri with obvious concern, his brows furrowing when he noticed the razor in Yuuri’s hand. It was obvious he was upset, but he tried not to show it. Victor took a few calming breaths of his own, then carefully approached his fiance. 

“Yuuri, love, do you want me to hold you?” Victor offered, opening his arms. 

Oh god, he did. He didn’t let go of the razor, but he practically threw himself into Victor’s arms. Victor carefully lowered them both to the floor, holding Yuuri tightly and murmuring soothing words. 

“Can you tell me 5 things you see?” Victor asked gently.

“Floor...pants...shower...towel...socks…”

Victor started rubbing his back. “Good. 4 things you feel?” 

Yuuri took a shuddering breath. “Y-your heartbeat...cold floor...steam...your shirt…”

“That’s good. How about 3 things you hear?” Victor continued. 

“Water, pipes, breathing…”

“And something you smell?” 

Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s shirt. “Fabric softener.” 

Victor’s hand gently found Yuuri’s, which was still holding the razor. He carefully started prying Yuuri’s fingers apart, and Yuuri complied, dropping the object into Victor’s waiting hand. Victor got it out of Yuuri’s reach, then returned to rubbing soothing patterns on his back. 

“Better?” Victor prompted.

Yuuri nodded into his fiance’s shirt. “Yeah…” It wasn’t a lie. He felt calmer after his grounding exercises, and with Victor’s arms around him. He could feel Victor’s chest rising and falling, prompting Yuuri to match his steady breathing. 

A kiss was placed on the top of Yuuri’s head. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Clutching at Victor’s shirt, Yuuri shook his head. 

“Alright,” Victor responded. “How about a bath, then?”

Yuuri nodded in approval, and let Victor untangle them. Victor kissed him on the cheek, then stood up so he could lean over the tub and turn the shower off and start to fill the basin. He stripped naked, then pulled Yuuri up so they were both sitting on the side of the tub instead of the floor. They stayed close, hand-in-hand, while Victor kept checking the water and adjusting the temperature. When the tub was filled and the temperature was comfortable, they both settled into the water. Victor got in first, guiding Yuuri to lean his back against his chest. 

The contented sigh that left Yuuri’s lips as soon as he sunk into the water was involuntary. It wasn’t the same as the onsen, but it still felt good. Yuuri let his head tip back against Victor’s shoulder, his eyes closing. Victor put his hands on Yuuri’s abdomen, which made Yuuri tense. Victor picked up on it, making a questioning noise. 

Yuuri swallowed hard. “I’ve gained a lot of weight,” he admitted in a small voice. 

“Is that what upset you?” 

Yuuri nodded, keeping his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see Victor’s expression. He did, however, hear the sad sigh that his fiance let out. 

“Oh, my lovely Yuuri.” Victor kissed Yuuri’s hair, his shoulder, the back of his neck, and everywhere he could reach. “It’s the off season, you don’t have to be in competition shape. It’s not sustainable.” 

Yuuri finally opened his eyes, but lifted his head so he was staring at the wall in front of him instead of looking up at Victor. “I let myself go so fast. You still look so good.” 

“For the record, I think you still look good too,” Victor countered. “But I’m not in competition shape either, you know.” 

“But you can’t tell. When I look at myself now…” Yuuri sniffled, thinking about the body in the mirror that he hated. 

“I think,” Victor started, “we need to start working on body image with your therapist again.”

“Probably…” Yuuri relented. 

Victor pulled Yuuri tighter against him. “You are the most beautiful person I know, competition weight or not. I love you, always, no matter what.” 

“I know.” Yuuri’s voice cracked. “I...logically I know. But…” He sniffled again. 

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen your anxiety this bad,” Victor commented. “I’m proud of you for reaching out to me.” 

Yuuri shook his head. “I messed up. I snuck the razor in and I was gonna do it. I wanted to do it.” 

“But you didn’t.” He kissed the nape of Yuuri’s neck again. “God, I’m so proud of you. I’m so happy that you texted me instead.” Another kiss. “Your strength and resilience are constantly amazing me.” 

“I...I guess you’re right. I didn’t do it.” Yuuri felt oddly triumphant. Instead of falling back into a harmful habit, he reached out to his fiance. That had to count for something, right? 

Maybe he wasn’t so weak after all. 


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Just the tiniest bit of angst
> 
> Ok so this was supposed to be more angsty, I swear! But my hand slipped and I wrote something cutesy and humorous...but the prompt didn't specify how much angst sooooooo

Being the most decorated figure skater in history, wealthy, handsome, and the owner of the cutest dog in the world, one would think that Victor Nikoforov had it all. He could get anything he wanted, whether that was willing bed partners, or the most expensive suit on the rack. If he couldn’t buy it, he could usually charm people into giving it to him with a megawatt smile and a well-timed wink. He was famous. He was on the cover of magazines. He was featured on billboards all over the world. He had been made into a body pillow, for fuck’s sake. 

So why did he feel so empty? 

After his 5th consecutive gold medal at Worlds, people kept asking what he was going to do next. He didn’t know. Winning didn’t make him happy anymore, but who was he if he wasn’t skating? No, gold medals didn’t fill the void. The only thing that had briefly filled that void was a drunk, adorable skater from Japan. A drunk, adorable skater that hadn’t called him. So maybe he was a little crazy for uprooting his life to coach said skater following a viral video, but he’d be even crazier if he didn’t chase the only happiness he’d felt in ages. 

Victor would be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped for Yuuri to welcome him with open arms. He was naked, and he’d posed perfectly! He wasn’t exactly subtle about what he wanted, but the sultry dancer he’d met in Sochi seemed to be long gone, replaced by a shy, nervous introvert. Fortunately, Victor found this version of Yuuri just as endearing, even if he chose to seduce a pork cutlet bowl instead of his very available coach. It was fine. Totally fine. 

God, it was not fine. 

“Um, Victor,” Yuuri called timidly, skidding to a halt next to his would-be coach. “For this part, should I picture the sauce, or the egg?” 

Yuri, freshly dubbed as “Yurio”, snickered from across the ice. Victor ignored him, plastering a smile on his face to encourage his student. “Ah,” he responded, thinking carefully, “picture the sauce being slowly drizzled over a warm, steaming bowl.” 

As weird as it was, Yuuri seemed to get it. Which was miraculous, because Victor didn’t have a damn clue what he was talking about. Yuuri nodded resolutely, running the sequence again that he’d been working on. He still wasn’t quite getting it, but it was infinitely better than it had been all day. Victor clapped politely, internally groaning.

Yuuri should be picturing  _ him _ . He should be getting inspired by  _ him _ . Instead, Yuuri was taking inspiration from a pork cutlet bowl for a program about sexual love. It wasn’t fair. Victor had come all this way to be with Yuuri (and yes, to coach him), and Yuuri kept brushing him off. Was he dense, or the world’s biggest tease?

Victor watched Yuuri, making note of criticisms (he had plenty) that he wanted to bring up. He must have been staring too intently, because his young rinkmate skated up beside him and made a disapproving noise.

“Ugh, did you just come here to get in his pants?” 

Victor shot him an irritated look. At least Yuri was speaking Russian, so Yuuri wouldn’t know what they were talking about. “No. I came here to coach him, like I said.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s why you keep undressing him with your eyes. It’s disgusting. Just fuck him and leave already.”

“It’s not like that,” Victor snapped.

“Clearly,” Yuri retorted. “He’s more interested in a bowl of fried pork than you.” Yuri laughed gleefully. “God, I love it.” 

Victor tried not to let his irritation show, but he knew he was failing. “Whatever helps motivate Yuuri is fine,” he replied tersely.

Yuri narrowed his eyes, then burst out laughing again. “You idiot. Are you jealous of a pork cutlet bowl?”

“No!” Victor denied vehemently. He was definitely  _ not  _ jealous of a pork cutlet bowl. 

At center ice, Yuuri stumbled a little, getting distracted by Victor and Yuri’s foreign exchange. But he fell back into the sequence he was working on with minimal effort. It was still a bit awkward, but god, Victor loved how he moved. Yuuri was so beautiful. Even if he was picturing breaded pork sizzling on the stove instead of  _ Victor _ …

Well, shit. He was jealous of a pork cutlet bowl. 

Why didn’t Yuuri’s face look like that when he was thinking about Victor? It wasn’t fair. Yuuri had brought so much joy into Victor’s life, and then disappeared without a trace. And now, he was going to picture a bowl of katsudon, instead of Victor Fucking Nikiforov, who had been voted “World’s Most Eligble Bachelor” two years in a row? 

He didn’t know Yuuri well, but he thought he was different. He thought he’d found someone who saw Victor as himself, and not the Living Legend. Apparently, he’d been wrong. Whatever he thought he’d felt between him and Yuuri at the banquet had obviously been one sided. The realization shouldn’t hurt, he should be used to it, but god it hurt. All he wanted was someone to see  _ him _ , not the fake smiles and the photoshopped pictures. Yuri was right about him being an idiot. Yuuri didn’t want him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be thinking about a pork cutlet bowl in a program about sexual love. 

The realization shouldn’t hurt that much. They barely knew each other. But Victor had been so convinced there was something between them. Why hadn’t Yuuri felt that spark? The way Yuuri had looked at him at the banquet, he thought Yuuri felt it too. 

But no, he was still picturing that goddamn pork cutlet bowl. 

If Victor was harsher toward both of his students during that practice, he could just blame it on the two of them not understanding the depths of their programs, right? And if he found himself drinking with Yuuri’s old dance teacher later that night, he could blame it on the new stresses of being a coach, right? 

“Another one,” Victor slurred. 

The dance teacher, Minako, gave him a concerned look, but poured more of whatever-the-fuck alcohol he was drinking. He didn’t know or care what it was, as long as it was strong. Anything to drown out the shame of being overlooked for a bowl of pork and rice. 

“Rough day?” Minako probed. 

Victor snorted. “You have no idea.” He laid his head down on the bar. Victor really was an idiot. He gave up his career, the life he knew, for someone who didn’t want him. 

But really, what else was new? Despite what the tabloids said, Victor wasn’t a heartbreaker. Sure, he had his share of one night stands, but in reality,  _ he  _ was usually the one that got attached and found himself left with a broken heart. Everyone wanted him, but they wanted him for his fame. They wanted to sell pictures of him to the tabloids. They wanted to brag about sleeping with a celebrity. They didn’t want to know him. They didn’t like when he got clingy, or talked about his dog too much. He had been so naive to think Yuuri would feel differently. 

Victor downed his new drink. “Another.” 

Minako didn’t comply, instead bringing him a glass of water. “How about you sit this round out?” 

Victor tried to muster up a glare. He liked Minako, he really did, but he didn’t want someone to come between him and his wallowing. “I need something stronger than water,” Victor complained. 

Minako leaned on the bar, studying Victor’s expression. She snorted, seeming to find what she was looking for. “Let me guess, feeling rejected by oblivious heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri?” 

“How did you--”

“I’ve known Yuuri his whole life,” Minako interrupted. “You think you’re the first person to come to my bar mooning over him?”

So Yuuri  _ was _ a heartbreaker. He’d been right to cast him as the playboy in the  _ Eros _ routine. Was Yuuri just playing with him at the banquet? Could he really be that cruel? Victor’s chest tightened at the thought, and he felt himself clenching his jaw. 

With a sigh, Minako relented and filled Victor’s glass again, providing him with more alcohol. “Don’t take it personally. Yuuri isn’t the best at reading people.” 

“I see,” Victor replied, dejected. 

“I don’t think you do,” Minako responded. She thought for a few moments before continuing. “Look. I’m sure you know by now that Yuuri isn’t the most confident person, right?”

That was an understatement. For someone who was apparently a heartless playboy, he was surprisingly down on himself. “Yeah.” 

“It goes beyond that. His anxiety is this horrible, dark monster,” Minako explained. “He’s struggled with it his whole life, and it makes it hard for him to see his own worth.”

“Ok…”

“What I mean,” Minako continued, “is that I can pretty much guarantee that Yuuri has no idea you’re interested in him.” 

Victor just stared at her in disbelief. How could Yuuri not know? Victor had asked to sleep together. He’d shown up  _ naked _ , package on display, and told Yuuri he wanted to coach him. He was constantly flirting, and touching Yuuri. Victor gave him a program about sexual love, for fuck’s sake!

“You’re probably thinking ‘oh, but I’ve been so obvious!’ I guarantee that unless you flat out tell Yuuri that you are romantically interested in him, he won’t get it,” Minako insisted. “Yuuri has broken so many hearts being totally unaware of romantic advances. He genuinely thinks no one is interested in him.” 

That was hard for Victor to believe. “But he’s so talented, and beautiful, and--”

“Yeah, he is.” Minako cut him off. “And he really doesn’t see it.” 

Victor reached for his drink, but hesitated and grabbed the glass of water Minako had set out. He took a sip. “How do I know if he’s interested?”

Minako just laughed. “Oh, he’s interested. Trust me.” 

Victor had a hard time believing her, but later that week when Yuuri held him tight before facing off against Yuri, he wondered if Minako was right. There was a fire in Yuuri’s eyes that Victor had never seen, and oh did he want to see it again. So when Victor told Yuuri that he loved katsudon, he was being entirely honest. After that, the only pork cutlet bowl Victor thought about during Yuuri’s performance was the one they would eat after Yuuri’s victory that night. 


	3. Terminal Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Terminal Illness 
> 
> CW: Major character illness, medical emergency, medical distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was only gonna be like 3 or 4k and then this happened so...here it is!

It all started with a dance.

_ “Be my coach, Victooooor!”  _

Victor couldn’t have known how much that simple request would change his life. 

As Victor lay in his bed, all he could think about was Katsuki Yuuri. His smile, his laugh, the way his arms gripped Victor tight during their dance. When was the last time he felt a spark like this? He couldn’t think of a time he ever did. And oh, he wanted more. He wanted to know Katsuki Yuuri in every possible way. If the poor boy hadn’t been so trashed, Victor would have already taken him to bed. He settled for scribbling his number on a piece of paper and not-so-subtly putting it in Yuuri’s back pocket. Yuuri had giggled, a warm, bubbly sound that Victor wanted to hear more of. 

He was just feeling  _ too much _ to sleep. Victor kept replaying the night’s events over and over in his head, blushing when he remembered Yuuri’s strong thighs wrapped around the stripper pole. He wished Yuuri had been just a little more sober, so he could tell Victor about himself. Victor had tried asking Yuuri questions, but Yuuri would slur incomprehensible answers in a mixture of English and Japanese, before dragging Victor off for another dance. 

So, Victor settled for doing his own research to find out as much about Katsuki Yuuri as he could. As it turned out, that was easier said than done. Yuuri had an Instagram, but it was very sparse. And of the small number of photographs that were actually present, very few were of Yuuri. There were a couple of official looking photos from competitions, but nothing that was more of a glimpse into the skater’s private life. Victor already knew about Katsuki Yuuri the competitor, he wanted to know about Katsuki Yuuri the person. For example, what happened between his short and free program? Yuuri’s short program had gone well, but his free program fell apart. And why had he walked away from Victor when Victor asked to take a photo? And more importantly, where did Yuuri learn to pole dance like  _ that _ ? Unfortunately, Yuuri’s social media offered no answers. 

The next best thing was to watch Yuuri’s programs. A skater’s programs were a part of themselves on display, so Victor could learn a lot about Yuuri just by watching him skate. Yuuri moved just as beautifully on the ice as he did on the dance floor. Of course, Victor had seen him skate before, he’d be an idiot not to know about one of the only six men to make it to the GPF in his division. He knew Yuuri was known for his step sequences and spins, but Victor hadn’t paid him much more attention than that, so there was a wealth of knowledge to be gained from watching old programs. 

It was frustratingly difficult to find good quality recordings of Yuuri’s programs, but Victor didn’t care. He spent most of the night staring at his phone screen, rewinding poor quality home videos so he could rewatch his favorite part. Yuuri was inconsistent, but there was so much potential there. Victor could see it. With the right coach, and the right program, Yuuri would be unstoppable. That stamina. That grace. Oh, how Victor longed to see his full potential. 

Victor didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he was awoken by his coach pounding on his door, snapping at Victor for already being late. Victor groaned, squinting at the alarm clock next to the bed. Yup, he was late. His phone was still clutched in his hand, the battery drained from not being plugged in. Victor called out to his coach, letting him know he’d be down shortly. He really had meant to get up on time. He had no idea what time Yuuri’s flight home was, and he wanted to try and catch the Japanese skater before he left. With a chuckle, Victor wondered how hung over the other man was. 

Stretching, Victor got out of bed, plugging his phone in so it would be ready for the flight. He was briefly disappointed that there wasn’t a text from Yuuri, but it was still early. If Victor had drank as much as him, he wouldn’t want to be awake right now either. 

As Victor was stepping toward the bathroom, he noticed something small and delicate fall off his shirt and flutter down to the ground. Curious, Victor leaned over to pick up the object. It was a soft purple color, irregularly shaped and smooth to the touch. Victor didn’t think much of it; he’d been dancing and drinking for hours, who knows what he’d dragged back to his room with him? He discarded the object, continuing his day without a second thought. 

He didn’t see Yuuri in the lobby, so he spent the rest of his trip home daydreaming about what the first text Yuuri would send him was going to be. He couldn’t wait to get Yuuri’s number so he could send the Pictures he’d taken. Chris had also sent him a few, so Victor had a collection going. Multiple times throughout the trip, he found himself opening his new collection, sighing longingly. He hoped that when he landed he’d have a text from Yuuri.

As soon as the plane was on the ground, Victor was turning his phone back on. There was still nothing. Victor tried not to let it get to him, maybe Yuuri had been running late and wouldn’t be able to text until he landed. In Victor’s research, he’d learned that Yuuri trained in Detroit. That was a very long way from Sochi. It would be nearly a day before poor Yuuri was home. 

Victor’s day continued as normal, his dog sitter congratulated him on another gold medal, and Victor spent the evening celebrating with Makkachin. He showed his beloved poodle pictures of Yuuri, telling her stories about how they danced the night away together. Did Yuuri like dogs? Victor sure hoped so. 

The next day came and went, and there was no word from Yuuri. Victor returned to practice, and still nothing from Yuuri. He won gold at Russian Nationals, even while sneaking off to find a stream of Japanese Nationals. Yuuri didn’t place. Yuuri wouldn’t be going to Worlds. Yuuri still hadn’t texted him.

The realization made Victor feel oddly queasy, and then he felt a pressure in his chest and a tickling in his throat. He coughed into the crook of his arm, glad that he had found somewhere private. This cough had been bothering him on and off since he got back from Sochi, but it hadn’t been enough of a problem to worry Yakov or his doctor. It was always just a little cough here and there, nothing to worry about. Except this time, Victor coughed until his eyes watered. When he looked down at his arm, there were three small, flat objects on his jacket. He picked one up. It was quite soft, and a very pretty shade of blue. But where did it come from? He didn’t cough  _ that  _ up, did he? 

As Victor was contemplating what was going on, another coughing fit hit. He doubled over, and this time, he felt the objects coming up his throat. He held out his hands, catching a few more. Now he was getting worried. Victor wasn’t a health expert, but he was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to cough up solid objects. He should probably make a doctor’s appointment. Except…

They might pull him from the rest of the season. What would he do if he wasn’t skating? Clearly his illness (or whatever it was) wasn’t bad enough to stop him from bringing home gold, so it couldn’t be that much of a problem. Right? If it was still bothering him at the end of the season, Victor swore to himself that he would contact his doctor. For now, he’d just take some vitamin C tablets, drink throat soothing tea, and get plenty of rest. 

The next time Victor coughed something up, he was at home. He’d been sitting with Makkachin, staring at pictures from the banquet. It started with a couple gentle coughs, but they slowly turned into a painful coughing fit that left Victor’s abdominal muscles aching from the effort. This time, he’d coughed up a mouthful of the blue objects, as well as...was that a leaf? 

Victor’s blood ran cold. No. It couldn’t be. It was so rare, and so unlikely to happen to anyone, let alone an athlete in peak shape. He picked up the blue objects, studying them closely. They were so soft and delicate. When Victor piled them up in his hand, he couldn’t deny what they were; flower petals. He was coughing up flower petals, and it seemed to be getting worse. Victor didn’t want to admit what it meant, or  _ who  _ was causing it. 

So Victor did what he did best, and pushed his concerns aside. He kept practicing, and he kept winning. He was able to keep his coughing fits secret from his coach, blaming accidental inhaling of water or overworking himself when he couldn’t get off the ice in time. Yakov didn’t see the petals, which was miraculous, because there were more and more of them every time. The coughing fits were becoming more numerous, and the frequency of those fits that included hacking up plant material was increasing as well. Not only were there more flowers, but there were leaves too. One time, he coughed up part of a thorny stem, which had cut his lip on the way out. But somehow, he managed to keep it hidden, until he couldn’t anymore.

Victor knew what was happening, but he didn’t know why. Still, he couldn’t deny his feelings toward the person that had quite literally swept him off his feet. It was ridiculous. They’d only met once! How could Victor be feeling such strong feelings for someone he only met once? And even then, the chances that he’d get sick over it were so slim, it should be impossible. This kind of thing was only supposed to happen to scorned lovers, not lonely gold medalists who managed to find happiness for a night. Sure, it hurt when Yuuri didn’t call, it hurt more than Victor cared to admit, but he should be used to it. It wasn’t like he had a great track record for relationships, so what made Katsuki Yuuri different?

Victor didn’t know. And he couldn’t stop the pain. He tried to tell himself to move on. He tried forcing himself not to think about Yuuri, or look at anything about Yuuri, but it didn’t help. He always came back to those pictures from the banquet. They both looked so happy, so why hadn’t Yuuri called? Was he just playing with Victor’s feelings? 

The pain Victor was feeling from his rejection fueled his performances for the rest of the season. He won, and won, and kept winning. And then he was standing on the top of the podium at the World championships, bringing his gold medal to his lips. He smiled, but he felt no real joy. His chest had been hurting all day, and he wanted to get off the ice, before his secret was revealed to the entire world. He managed to make it, but had to slip away into an empty bathroom to avoid being caught. Victor made it just in time as the worst pain he’d ever experienced bubbled over in his chest. He fell to his knees, hacking and wheezing. There was a panic in the back of his head that he wouldn’t be able to get enough air. He couldn’t take deep breaths, and he was starting to feel dizzy. And oh, the pain. It felt like his lungs were being torn apart, and that something was scraping its way up his throat. That something turned out to be a fully formed blue rose, stem, leaves, thorns, and all. 

When Victor could breathe again, his breaths ragged and painful, he picked up the flower. It was tinged with blood, and Victor could taste the metallic sting in his mouth. It was hard to believe this had come out of him. In any other circumstances, it would be beautiful. A healthy, deep blue rose. Victor laughed bitterly. There was some irony in it being this particular flower that he’d coughed up, being the type that had once adorned his flower crown. Was it fate? Or just a coincidence? Victor wasn’t sure if he cared enough to know, so he tossed the flower in the garbage bin, then dabbed away the blood that had stained his lips. 

The image of himself in the mirror, pale with blood stained lips, was all he could think about later at the banquet. He kept smiling at sponsors, answering vaguely when they questioned his plans for next season. He didn’t know. How could he? Victor didn’t even know if he would be alive next season. This disease was supposed to be rapidly progressive, and fatal. He should probably see a doctor. There were treatments now that could slow down the progression, but there wasn’t a cure. No, the only one who could cure him was Yuuri, but it wasn’t something Victor could ask.

It turned out that Victor didn’t have to ask. The video was like a beacon in the dark. It had to be fate. Victor had thought Yuuri wanted nothing to do with him, but there he was, skating Victor’s program about longing. It was a sign, it had to be. There was hope that he could still fix this.

Victor didn’t really think through his decision, he just texted Yakov and bought a ticket for the first flight to Japan that he could find. Yakov was, unsurprisingly, irate. Victor thought about explaining the situation, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Yakov, or anyone else, pitying him, so he kept his mouth shut. Besides, if Victor’s suspicions were correct, he wouldn’t have to worry for much longer. Yuuri was clearly reaching out, so that meant there was hope. 

...right? 

“Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach!” 

It was what Yuuri asked for, so why did he run? Victor was left with his arm outstretched, reaching toward an empty space that had been occupied by Katsuki Yuuri just moments before. He felt a twisting in his gut, that turned into a pain in his chest that had him doubling over. Victor managed to crawl out of the water, not wanting to risk drowning if he passed out (it had almost happened once in the tub). He coughed onto the wet stone, feeling the pain creeping through his lungs and up his trachea. He was expecting more blue, but this time, it was yellow. Victor picked up the flower with shaky hands. He wasn’t great with flowers, but he knew it was a daffodil. He didn’t know if that was better or worse than roses. At least the stem didn’t have thorns. 

After wiping his mouth to make sure there wasn’t any blood, Victor tossed the flower aside. He didn’t know what to think. Apparently nothing had changed, despite Yuuri’s video. Why had he skated it if he wasn’t reaching out to Victor? Why had he asked Victor to coach him if he was just going to run? 

There was a voice in his head, that sounded like Yakov, telling him that he was an idiot and that he should get back on a plane and fly home. But he knew he couldn’t. For better or worse, he was invested in Katsuki Yuuri. He wanted to know him. He wanted to coach him, he really did. The idea had been stuck in his head since Yuuri brought it up at the banquet. He was just expecting more of a warm welcome, that’s all. Maybe Yuuri was just embarrassed about how drunk he got? Victor would just have to show Yuuri that he was still interested, regardless. 

So Victor did, but with no change in results. Yuuri slammed doors in his face, hid from him, and yelped whenever Victor tried to touch him. Even when Yuri showed up and made Victor feel a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe Yuuri did actually want him around, the flowers kept coming. Yuuri hugged Victor, and before the award ceremony Victor ran to the bathroom to cough up a flower. They made peace on the beach, and on the way home Victor pretended he forgot something so he could keel over in the sand and hack his lungs out. Yuuri announced his program was about love, and Victor hoped so desperately that was enough. 

While Yuuri was on the train back from the press conference, Victor barely made it to the bathroom in time to cough up three whole flowers, with stems attached. He leaned over the sink, which was speckled with droplets of blood. He could hear that every intake of breath was accompanied by a painful wheeze, but he couldn’t stop it. 

Victor had started cataloguing the flowers, curious if they held any significance. It turned out that they did. So far, he’d coughed up three different kinds. This was the first time he’d coughed up one of each.

_ Blue roses: “I can’t have you but I can’t stop thinking about you.” _

_ Daffodils: “Unrequited love.” _

_ Yellow carnations: “Rejection.”  _

He didn’t understand. Yuuri had all but said he loved Victor on national television. Yuuko had giggled happily when she translated what Yuuri was saying, and Mari had ruffled his hair affectionately. So why were the flowers still coming? Yuuri wasn’t rejecting him, he was just shy. He was starting to reciprocate some of the touches and praise Victor lavished on him, even if it was tentative. It didn’t make sense. Everything he’d read online said the flowers should stop when the person he was pining for returned his affections. 

Victor cried himself to sleep that night, holding Makkachin close and for the first time, genuinely fearing for his future. He’d just assumed he could make Yuuri fall for him and then everything would be better. He couldn’t  _ tell _ Yuuri, of course, but he thought his charm would be enough. Every case of a person with this  _ condition _ telling their intended what was going on ended poorly. It seemed that when you were under pressure to fall in love, it just didn’t happen. So Victor couldn’t even tell Yuuri, couldn’t ask him why he was saying those words if they weren’t true. Yuuri sure looked like he meant them. 

Victor squeezed Makka tighter. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was unloveable. 

When Yuuri arrived home late at night, Victor pretended to be asleep, even though he could hear his student asking where he was. The next day, he plastered on his most winning smile and told Yuuri he was so proud. It wasn’t a lie, even if he wasn’t saying everything he wanted. Yuuri blushed beautifully, making Victor’s heart flutter. 

They kept practicing, and Victor kept getting worse. It was getting harder to hide what was going on. More than once, he had to leave the ice, or leave dinner, or just leave the room where other people were because he felt a fit coming on. He was coughing up enough flowers daily to make a small bouquet. His lungs hurt, and skating was becoming a challenge. Yuuri was giving him increasingly concerned looks, but Victor just brushed him off with a smile and a wave of his hand. Mari started making snarky remarks about his paleness, and Victor just laughed and explained that it was his normal complexion this time of year. It wasn’t. Hiroko prodded his increasingly noticeable hip bones, frowning in concern. Victor assured her he always lost weight at the peak of the season. He didn’t. 

And then, there was the Cup of China. Yuuri’s Eros routine was everything Victor ever wanted it to be. Yuuri was seduction made human. He earned his first place spot, even if it terrified him. He knew Yuuri wouldn’t sleep that night, and Victor couldn’t either. Yuuri was nervous about the competition, and Victor was up all night coughing up flowers. He’d coughed up a very impressive sized bouquet by the time the sun was peeking over the horizon. Victor had spent all night on the bathroom floor, pulling himself up over the sink every time he had a coughing fit. The flowers were coming so close together now. How was he supposed to coach Yuuri when he could barely stand upright? He felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. His lungs hurt so bad with every breath that he found himself trying not to breathe at all sometimes. But Yuuri was relying on him, so he had to get it together.

Victor’s alarm went off, despite the fact that he was wide awake. He silenced it, then felt himself wracked with the worst coughing fit he’d had yet. Strangely, he didn’t cough up any flowers. At least, not until he was coughing so intensely he thought he was going to pass out. Then, a single bloom came up from his lungs, dropping into the sink. 

A black rose, dripping with crimson red droplets. 

He didn’t need Google to tell him what a black rose meant. 

With the fit at least temporarily subsided, Victor examined the rose, feeling tears in his eyes. Not now, he could be here yet. Yuuri needed him. He had so many promises he still had to keep. And what about Makka? Victor hoped the Katsukis would take her. They seemed like they’d gotten very attached. He could at least rest peacefully knowing his beloved poodle was well cared for. 

But Victor didn’t have time to think about that right now. He took a quick shower, wiping away any blood, spit, and mucus that had come up. He styled his hair, and dressed immaculately. He painted makeup on his face, covering dark circles and pale cheeks. 

Surprisingly, Yuuri looked about as bad as Victor felt. He’d been right about Yuuri not sleeping. Victor forced his student to nap, reveling in the chance to get some sleep himself as well. Miraculously, he didn’t have any more coughing fits. At least, not until he and Yuuri were shouting at each other in a parking garage. 

“Should I kiss you or something?”

As soon as the sentence left his lips, Victor doubled over. He felt the pain deep in his chest. It was hard to focus on anything around him, but he was aware of Yuuri’s expression changing from enraged, to terrified. He rushed over to his coach, asking him what was wrong and screaming for help. Victor tried to hold up a hand to stop him, but he couldn’t focus on moving his body beyond the spasms running through him.

Yuuri held him as Victor coughed up flower after flower. Blue roses, yellow carnations, daffodils, black roses, and spots of blood, all piling up in front of them. When the fit finally subsided, Victor could feel Yuuri shaking as much as he was. Victor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and tried to stand up. His legs buckled, but Yuuri managed to catch him and help him safely sit down. They sat on the cold concrete, even though Yuuri’s free skate was imminent. 

“You need to go,” Victor rasped. “You’ll miss your turn.”

“Are you insane? I’m not leaving you!” Yuuri’s arms tightened for emphasis. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine!” Victor wheezed with false cheer. 

Yuuri scowled, his eyes red rimmed and tear filled. “I don’t believe that.” He looked at the pile of flowers in front of them. “How long…?”

Victor really didn’t want to have this conversation now. “Really Yuuri it’s fine--”

“How long?!” Yuuri demanded. 

“Since Sochi,” Victor relented. 

Yuuri didn’t seem to know what to say to that. “But who would, I mean, but you're  _ you _ ! How could someone not…?” He swallowed hard. “Who...who is it?” 

Victor looked up at Yuuri sadly. “Do you really not know?” 

It took a few moments, but a look of comprehension crossed Yuuri’s face. “M-me?! But that can’t be right! It should be the other way around!” He shook his head in disbelief. “And since Sochi? You didn’t even know who I was in Sochi! You have to be mistaken.” 

Another coughing fit shook Victor. Yuuri rubbed his back soothingly as Victor coughed up another black rose. “I’m not mistaken,” Victor insisted. “And what are you talking about? Of course I knew who you were.”

“But you...you thought I was a fan. You asked me for a picture.”

“I like to take pictures with all my competitors,” Victor explained. “I knew who you were.” 

“Oh…well...that doesn’t explain how you...I mean, why Sochi?” 

Victor frowned. “You...you didn’t feel it too?” He deflated. “I’m sorry, after we danced at the banquet, I thought--”

“After we  _ what?! _ ” 

Victor’s eyes widened in understanding. “You don’t remember…” 

Yuuri shook his head. “No, sorry. All I remember about the banquet is drinking and--” His eyes widened. “Oh my god. What did I do?!” 

“You swept me off my feet,” Victor replied seriously.

“Victor I’m so sorry, I don’t remember anything,” he explained miserably. 

Strangely, Yuuri’s explanation calmed him. It was better than thinking Yuuri had been playing with him. “No, I’m sorry. I’m bringing all this up right before you have to skate.”

“Screw my skate! You’re more important,” Yuuri replied resolutely. 

“Yuuri you’ve worked too hard--” Victor was cut off by another coughing fit. 

Yuuri helped him through it, then made a frustrated sound. “I don’t understand. If you have it, Hanahaki I mean, it can’t be because of me.”

“Do you truly think so little of yourself? Yuuri I...I’m in love with you,” Victor admitted quietly. It was a given, considering the nature of his disease, but it was the first time he’d said it out loud.

Yuuri gasped quietly, hugging Victor tighter. “No, I mean,” he swallowed hard, “I’ve loved you since I was 12, Victor. This...this should be impossible. I’ve always loved you.” 

Victor was speechless. “...what?” 

“I saw you skating when I was 12 and I fell for you, and your skating,” Yuuri continued. “So you can’t be sick! Not because of me!”

He was right. If Yuuri was telling the truth, and why wouldn’t he be, Victor should be better. Yet, the pain was still gripping at Victor’s chest, and he found himself coughing up another rose. Yuuri still held him, sniffling quietly. Victor wrapped his own arms around Yuuri. 

“I don’t understand.” He squeezed Victor tighter. “You should be ok, you  _ need  _ to be ok!” Yuuri was sobbing into Victor’s shoulder now, and Victor let him. They held each other for a few minutes, until Yuuri asked, “How long do you have?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Victor admitted. 

“You haven’t seen a doctor about this?”

“No.”

Yuuri let out a frustrated sigh. “Victor! This has been going on for months and you didn’t get any help? Does anyone else know?”

“No…”

“Why didn’t you at least tell me?”

“I couldn’t, not if I wanted a chance. I couldn’t force you to fall in love with me,” Victor explained. “And when I first arrived, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t realize you didn’t remember the banquet. I thought you were just playing with me.” 

Yuuri took hold of Victor’s hands. “You didn’t need to force me, I was already there.” He sniffled again. “And I would never hurt you like that. I care about you.” 

“I know.” Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hands. Their hunched up positions on the ground weren’t particularly comfortable, but Victor didn’t care. He didn’t want to be apart from Yuuri...but he had to. “Please Yuuri, you can still make it. Go out there and show the audience your love.” 

“I don’t care about showing them, I just want to show you,” Yuuri murmured. 

“Can you do this for me? I...I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to see you skate,” Victor admitted sadly. 

Yuuri hesitated, but ultimately agreed. “Ok. For you.” 

Victor leaned over and tenderly kissed Yuuri’s forehead. “Thank you.” 

They managed to untangle themselves, and then walked back into the arena side-by-side. Victor was aware that they must both look awful, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to see Yuuri skate. And oh, was it glorious. Despite the obvious exhaustion in his body, Yuuri looked ethereal. Victor couldn’t look away. Halfway through, Yuuri’s expression softened, and Victor would have given anything to know what he was thinking about. And then the quad flip. Yuuri didn’t land it, but he managed all 4 rotations. Victor felt his heart soar with him.

As soon as Yuuri’s program ended, he was running. It hurt, with the damage to his lungs, but Victor ignored the burning. All that mattered was getting to Yuuri. He jumped as soon as he could, launching himself into Yuuri’s arms. He cradled Yuuri’s head, protecting him as they landed on the ice. Yuuri’s lips were soft and warm against his own. As his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw were Yuuri’s chocolate colored eyes, reflecting excitement and affection back at him. 

“I wanted to surprise you as much as you surprised me.” Victor leaned down again, stealing another kiss. The crowd was screaming around them, roaring their approval. Victor couldn’t help but think this was the easiest he’d breathed in months. 

Even though Yuuri didn’t win gold, Victor was so proud. He stuck by Yuuri’s side, feeling the occasional tickle in his throat, but he held it together for the rest of the day. He held it together as he, Yuuri, Phichit, and Chris all enjoyed a celebratory dinner. He held it together as Yuuri pulled Victor into his hotel room, a blush on his cheeks. He held it together as they kissed on the hotel bed, their legs tangling together on top of the sheets. And when another fit hit him in the middle of the night, Yuuri held him. He brought Victor a glass of water, and rubbed his back as Victor’s breath came back to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri whispered, barely audible over Victor’s ragged breathing. 

“For?” 

Yuuri’s hand stilled. “This. This is all my fault.” He grasped at Victor’s shirt. 

“Please don’t blame yourself,” Victor begged. “I don’t regret falling for you.” 

“But if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be sick!” Yuuri’s voice wavered. “I...I’m killing you and there’s nothing I can do about it!” He was sobbing now, the day’s events and emotions catching up to him. “Victor I love you, I swear I do. I always have, so I don’t know why you’re suffering like this!” 

“I believe you,” Victor replied sincerely. “I don’t understand it either, but I don’t blame you. I can’t help my feelings anymore than you can.” It was the truth. Victor never felt bitter toward Yuuri, even though logically maybe he should. Yuuri didn’t ask Victor to fall for him, and he certainly didn’t make Victor sick on purpose. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove my love to you,” Yuuri promised, before leaning in for a rough kiss. He pushed Victor down on the bed, pressing the older man into the mattress.

It briefly crossed Victor’s mind to protest, since his mouth probably tasted a little bloody, but Yuuri’s mouth quickly removed any rational thought from his brain. They spent the night discovering each other, and despite Yuuri’s inexperience, he made an effort to make Victor feel cherished. And he did. Victor couldn’t remember the last time a lover made him feel so thoroughly devoured. 

But it wasn’t enough. He still woke both himself and Yuuri up in the middle of the night, rushing to the bathroom to avoid making a mess in the hotel room. Yuuri’s bare feet shuffled behind him only a few moments later, and he soothed comforting words as Victor cried and heaved over the basin of the sink. So many flowers came up that night that he lost track of how many. Yuuri had to hold him up when he was done, because Victor was struggling to get enough air. 

“You have to see a doctor. I’m scared for you,” Yuuri admitted quietly. 

“There isn’t much that modern medicine can do,” Victor rasped. 

“They have medicine that can alleviate some of the symptoms. I saw TV ads for it when I was in Detroit.” 

Victor nodded weakly. “I know. I just don’t want to interrupt your training. I’m your coach, I need to be there for you.” 

Yuuri tensed next to him. “I told you, you’re more important than my skating.”

“Please don’t throw away a promising career for me.”

This time, Yuuri didn’t just tense, he stepped away from Victor completely. “But it’s ok for you to throw your  _ life  _ away for me?” His voice was strangely flat. 

“I’m not throwing it away,” Victor replied weakly, wishing he sounded more firm. “Being with you, coaching you, is the first thing that’s made me happy in years. I don’t want to lose that.” 

Yuuri’s expression softened, and he returned to Victor’s side. “And I don’t want to lose  _ you _ .” 

God, how could he deny this man anything. “Ok...after we get back from Moscow. I promise. It will take time to find a doctor, anyway. One that speaks English and specializes in this disease isn’t going to be easy to find.” 

It was obvious that Yuuri didn’t like it, but he agreed, and he was determined to make Victor keep his promise. While they waited at the airport later that day, both of them exhausted from their lack of sleep, Yuuri made Victor research doctors near Hasetsu. Victor was hesitant, and it almost started another fight, with Yuuri mumbling irritably about Victor’s stubbornness. It was almost a knee-jerk reaction for Victor to reject Yuuri’s help. He was so used to feeling alone, he really didn’t know what to do when there was someone who would keep him accountable. Yuuri helped translate for Victor, and wrote down a few promising phone numbers to call once they were back in Hasetsu. Victor found himself longing for the hotspring and Hiroko’s cooking. He couldn’t wait to be back at Yutopia, especially because the flight was miserable. 

Victor kept needing to make trips to the plane’s tiny bathroom so he could cough up flowers in peace. Yuuri wanted to come with him, but the bathroom was so small there really wasn’t room for two of them. Instead, he’d wait anxiously for Victor to come back, ready with a bottle of water and some soothing words. When Victor wasn’t coughing in the bathroom, he rested his head on Yuuri’s shoulder, feeling exhausted in more ways than one. By the time they made it home, both of them were ready to pass out. They sprawled out in Victor’s bed, clothes still on, and fell asleep. 

In the coming days, it was obvious that Victor was getting worse. It was impossible to hide from the Katsukis, when a coughing fit overtook him in the middle of dinner without warning. He felt guilty the first time he coughed up a back rose during their meal, particularly because Yuuri’s family looked horrified. Yuuri assured him that they were only upset because they were worried about Victor, but Victor was sure they must be disgusted with him. 

Still, Hiroko treated him gently, bringing soup and tea when Victor’s throat burned after a tangle of thorny roses crawled up his throat. There were a few days when he couldn’t get out of bed because of the pain, and Hiroko was always there, brushing the hair out of his eyes and humming a gentle tune. Those were the days when he and Yuuri fought the most. Yuuri insisted on staying home to take care of Victor, and Victor insisted that Yuuri needed to practice. Yuuri only agreed to return to the ice when Hiroko promised not to leave Victor’s side. 

On the days where Victor was able to make it to the ice, it was a struggle. There were times when Victor spent more of their practice time hacking up flowers into a bucket than actually helping Yuuri. It was making Yuuri increasingly distressed. Yuuri had taken to sleeping in Victor’s room, so he couldn’t hide the nights when he cried himself to sleep. Victor knew the guilt was tearing Yuuri apart, and he hated that there was nothing he could do to make his boyfriend feel better. Yuuri lavished Victor with attention and praise, saying “I love you” in every language he knew, but nothing changed. Victor still became paler and sicker. 

By the time they arrived in Moscow, Victor was miserable. He got dizzy if he stood up too fast and it felt like his throat was permanently raw. It was even hard to get enough air sometimes, and he often found himself feeling light headed or short of breath. The press had noticed something was wrong, hounding him with questions about his health as soon as they stepped into the hotel lobby. To Victor’s surprise, Yuuri snapped at them when they became too invasive, then dragged Victor off toward the elevators. Victor’s heart felt warm at Yuuri’s defensiveness, and the way he held Victor’s hand tight while they waited for the elevator. 

After some polite greetings to Yuuri’s competition, they entered an empty elevator. At least, it was empty until a foot stopped the door from closing. Yuri entered, eying Victor suspiciously. 

“You look like shit. What the fuck is going on?” 

Victor plastered on his media smile. “Nothing to worry about, I assure you.” 

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. He turned to Yuuri. “What’s wrong with him?” 

Yuuri avoided his eyes, his lips pursed. He didn’t respond, which only made Yuri angrier. 

“Ugh! You know what? I don’t care!” The elevator dinged, and Yuuri stormed out as soon as the doors opened. He turned back to Yuuri and Victor. Victor expected rage, but Yuri looked almost fearful. At least, for a second. Then he was scowling again. “If you distract Katsudon from his performance I’ll kick your ass!” 

Victor just kept fake-smiling. “Bye, Yurio!” 

An angry snarl was all Victor could hear as the door closed. No doubt Yuri would report back to Yakov about how sickly Victor looked. He’d been avoiding talking to his former coach, going as far as ignoring his calls. Yakov would be livid if he found out what Victor had been hiding. 

Other than his usual coughing fits, the rest of the day was uneventful. Victor had to leave Yuuri’s official ice time to cough up flowers in the bathroom, but he made it back before his practice ended. Yakov was eying him suspiciously from the other side of the ice, but Victor ignored him. Even worse, Yakov’s ex-wife was also there, giving him equally concerned looks. Ignoring Yakov was one thing, but ignoring Yakov  _ and  _ Lilia? That would be a challenge. 

When the day of the short program arrived, Victor could barely get out of bed. His throat hurt, his chest ached, and he was exhausted. It was getting harder to sleep through the night when he’d wake up gasping for air or coughing every few hours. Victor was afraid he’d ruin Yuuri’s concentration with how often he was disturbing his boyfriend. Except, he didn’t. When Yuuri grabbed his tie and told him he’d show his love to all of Russia, Victor nearly swooned. He watched with rapt attention, ignoring the aching in his chest the best he could. Yuuri was stunning, and Victor couldn’t look away.

Partway through Yuuri’s program, Victor felt the beginnings of another coughing fit. He pushed it down, refusing to ruin Yuuri’s performance. His whole body shook as he tried, and failed, to keep his coughing hidden. Victor covered his mouth, hoping the fit would pass soon, and that he’d be able to keep the flowers hidden that were already creeping up his throat. 

“Gross, you’re going to get everyone sick!” Yuri snapped. 

Victor wasn’t even sure when Yuri had appeared beside him. The little focus he had that wasn’t being used to get enough air into his lungs was directed toward Yuuri. Yuuri, who was still performing his heart out. Victor couldn’t ruin it. He tried to stand up straight, taking a deep breath that sounded garbled and wheezy. His vision was swimming. 

He couldn’t breathe. No matter how many deep, painful breaths he took, it felt like he was drowning. Victor’s head was spinning, and he was seeing black at the corners of his vision. Panic was starting to overtake him. He couldn’t get enough air, and it was a terrifying feeling. His body and mind were desperately trying to work together to get more oxygen into his system, but it wasn’t working. It felt like he was underwater, but he couldn’t get to the surface. 

“...Vitya?” There was a hand on his shoulder, and a voice that sounded really far away. Yuuri’s music was still playing, but Victor was struggling to focus on it. When he managed to look up, his old coach was steadying him, a fear in his eyes that Victor had never seen before. 

Yakov mouthed something to him, but Victor couldn’t comprehend it. He was vaguely aware that Yuuri’s music had been replaced with the roar of the crowd, but the cheers turned to horrified gasps as soon as Victor hit the ground. Yakov managed to catch him and lower him down gently, but Victor was barely aware of it. All he was aware of was that he couldn’t get enough air, and that black roses were spewing out of his mouth. He couldn’t stop it. 

Someone was yelling his name, but Victor couldn’t focus on the voice. He couldn’t focus on anything, except the panic and the pain in his chest. He felt hands on him, and then blackness overtook his vision.

When he came to, he didn’t know where he was. Sterile white walls surrounded him, and he felt strangely numb. It was at least easier to breathe. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was Yuuri’s worried profile. Yuuri had his hand in Victor’s, but he was staring out the window, like he was looking at something far away. Victor squeezed his hand, and Yuuri’s head snapped around. 

“Hey,” Victor murmured, sounding weak even to his own ears. 

Yuuri burst into tears, squeezing Victor’s hand so tightly it hurt. “I-I thought I’d lost you,” Yuuri sobbed. 

“I’m still here,” Victor assured him. 

He glanced around, trying to comprehend where he was. It was a hospital. Obviously it was a hospital, he passed out at an international skating event. There was a fluid line attached to his arm, and when Victor reached up to touch his face, he felt an oxygen cannula in his nose. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Victor wheezed. 

Yuuri shook his head frantically. “Please don’t apologize. This is all my fault! If it wasn’t for me…”

Victor lifted Yuuri’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Yuuri, I told you, I don’t regret my feelings for you. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this kind of happiness, and this kind of purpose.”

Yuuri leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of Victor’s neck. “Please don’t leave me. I love you, I love you so much. Why isn’t it enough?!” He sounded almost angry. 

“I don’t know.” He rested his cheek on the top of Yuuri’s head. “But I love you too, and that’s what matters to me.” 

A throat cleared in the doorway. Yuuri looked up, frantically wiping away tears. Victor’s blood ran cold as his eyes fell on his old coach, and the person in his life that was closest to a father. Yakov was going to kill him.

“Yakov--”

“You stupid, idiot, stubborn boy!” Yakov ranted. “How long have you been hiding this?!” 

Victor opened his mouth to respond, but Yakov continued his tirade, cutting Victor off. 

“Of all the irresponsible, brainless, idiotic things you could do, this is the worst! You thought you could hide this from me? That it would just go away if you pretended it wasn’t a problem?!” Yakov was screaming, prompting a nurse to rush into the room and shush him. He grumbled at her, but wasn’t about to snap at a medical professional for just doing their job. 

“I’m sorry Yakov. I thought I could fix things on my own.” 

Yakov shook his head, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you did. You always think you can.” 

“Mr. Feltsman,” Yuuri tried to intervene.

Yakov’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes narrowing. “And  _ you. _ Is this  _ your _ doing?” 

Yuuri didn’t hesitate. “Yes. It’s my fault.” 

Yakov looked furious, like he wanted to incinerate Yuuri on sight. “ _ How dare you _ . You selfish little--”

“Yakov, stop!” Victor choked out, causing himself to cough. He shook his head, holding up a hand while he caught his breath. “It isn’t Yuuri’s fault. Neither of us can help our feelings. And anyway, something isn’t right. Yuuri loves me, but I’m not getting better.”

“And you believe him when he says that? Vitya, I saw how broken up you were about his boy not calling you!” He was shouting in English, probably so Yuuri would experience the full impact of Yakov’s fury. “You wouldn’t be laying here if he was telling the truth!” 

Yuuri was finally able to interject. “It is the truth!” he insisted. “I don’t know why it isn’t enough. I’m doing everything I can to prove my love to Victor, but nothing is changing!” He started crying again.

Yakov finally seemed to calm down, realizing Yuuri was genuine. Regardless, the three of them didn’t have time to talk anymore, because Victor’s doctor appeared, flanked by the same nurse that had asked Yakov to be quiet. She threatened to kick Yakov out, but he promised to behave. 

“Mr. Nikiforov, your condition is quite serious,” the doctor explained after a brief introduction. “Your Hanahaki has progressed to the final stages. The damage to your lungs is extensive, and there is radiographic evidence that the flowers have started taking root in your bronchi.” She looked sympathetic. “I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Yuuri pleaded. 

The doctor hesitated. “I can help. There are anti-inflammatories, pain medications, and bronchodilators that have been clinically proven to alleviate some of the symptoms of Hanahaki, but I can’t cure it. There’s only one cure.” 

“But it’s not working! I’m the one that caused this, but I love Victor. He should be better!” 

Yuuri’s declaration surprised the doctor. “You’re certain you’re the one?” 

Both Yuuri and Victor nodded. “There’s no way it could be anyone else,” Victor insisted. “And I’ve had my heart broken before, I don’t understand why I only got sick now. I’ve had awful luck with relationships.”

“We don’t really understand how this disease works,” the doctor explained. “It’s truly a medical mystery. It’s never been documented that a person has failed to respond to the love of their intended, but this disease is so rare that it’s not impossible that we just haven’t seen it before.” 

Victor deflated. As unlikely as it was, he’d hoped the doctor would have an explanation for them. “So...how much time do I have?”

The doctor smiled sympathetically. “It’s hard to say. The damage to your lungs is extensive, which is a bad sign, as is the frequency at which you’re coughing up flowers. However, you haven’t tried a treatment trial yet. We’ll need to see how you respond to the medications...but the prognosis is grave.” 

Yuuri started sobbing again. It wasn’t like they hadn’t known, but hearing the doctor say it out loud made it more real. Even Yakov seemed to be hiding some sniffles. Victor just plastered on his best media-ready smile. “Ah. Well. I suppose I should get my affairs in order then.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Yuuri snapped. His eyes were full of tears, but he was looking at Victor with the kind of fire in his soul that made Victor fall for him in the first place. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe I’m just not proving my love enough? I’ll just have to be more romantic.” He looked up at the doctor hopefully, wondering if his idea would work.

“I’m sorry Mr. Katsuki, I really wish I had more answers for you. I know this isn’t what you were hoping to hear from me.” 

Yuuri nodded solemnly. “So...what now?”

“Mr. Nikiforov needs to be hospitalized. He’s oxygen dependent at the moment,” she explained. 

Victor shook his head. “That won’t work. Yuuri has to skate tomorrow! And then we need to be back in Japan to prepare for the Grand Prix Finals!” 

Yuuri and Yakov both protested at the same time as the doctor shook her head. “I’m very sorry Mr. Nikiforov, if you leave now, it will be against medical advice. I’m hoping we can wean you off oxygen in a few days once the new medications kick in, but until then, you’ll need supplemental oxygenation.” She picked up Victor’s chart, glancing through it. “When you came in, you had very poor oxygen saturation to the rest of your body. That’s very dangerous. With how inflamed and damaged your lungs are, I’m not surprised you couldn’t get enough air. That brings me to my next point; we need to talk about surgery.” 

“Surgery?” Victor parroted weakly. 

The doctor nodded. “It’s not a low-risk surgery, but we recommend it in cases as advanced as yours. Even if we can control the inflammation and help you breathe better, there’s no medication that can take care of the flowers. Getting the roots out will greatly slow down the progression.” 

“Can I...will I be able to skate again?” Victor asked. 

“Not likely at the level you were. Even if you were to fully recover, there is significant scar tissue in your lungs.” Once again, she looked sympathetic.

Strangely, the news didn’t rattle Victor as much as it should have. He’d pretty much accepted that he was going to die, so what did it matter if he couldn’t get on the ice again? As long as he made it long enough to see Yuuri win the GPF, he was fairly certain he’d be alright. Yuuri was all that mattered now. 

“I have a lot to think about. Thank you.” He nodded to the doctor in thanks, and she took her leave.

As soon as she was gone, Yuuri turned to him. “Are you going to do it? The surgery?” 

Victor shrugged. “I don’t know. Why prolong the inevitable?” 

“Because it’s not inevitable!” Yuuri insisted. “We just need more time to figure out what I’m doing wrong!” 

Victor shook his head, then leaned over to kiss Yuuri on the cheek. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. You make me feel so loved every day we are together.” He smiled again, still full of fake-cheer. “Anyway, you should get back to the hotel so you can rest up for tomorrow!” 

Yuuri scowled. “There’s no way I’m skating tomorrow. I’m not leaving your side.” 

“You have to! You’ve worked too hard to give up now!” Victor insisted. 

Yuuri pulled back from Victor, his jaw tense and his fists clenched. “When will you realize that there are things more important than skating?!” He stormed out of the room, pulling the door shut roughly behind him. 

Yakov sighed. “The boy’s right.” 

Victor rolled his eyes. “A few minutes ago you were yelling at him, and now you’re agreeing with him? Make up your mind, Yakov!” 

“I admit I may have...misjudged the situation,” Yakov grunted. “Regardless, he’s right about your priorities being a mess. He claims to love you, and you want to send him away? To skate while you wither away in a hospital?”

“I’m not withering away,” Victor huffed. 

“Look at you!” He gestured to Victor’s pale, sickly form. “You are! If the situation was reversed, would you want to leave him right now?” 

Victor frowned at that. “No…”

“Then why do you make him go?”

“It’s all I have left!” Victor all but yelled. He fought back against the tears that had been threatening to spill since he woke up. “This is the last thing I’m ever going to accomplish. All I want before I die is to help Yuuri earn his rightful spot at the GPF. He deserves gold, and I want to see it. I have to.” He buried his face in his hands. 

A comforting hand was placed on his shoulder. “Oh, Vitya. You stubborn fool.” He sighed. “If you stay in this hospital and listen to everything your doctor says, I will offer to coach the boy tomorrow.” 

Victor looked up at his former coach, not caring that snot was dribbling out of his nose. “Really?!” 

“Just this once!” Yakov insisted. “Lilia can handle Yura. If Katsuki agrees, I can get him through his performance tomorrow.” 

“I’ll do it.” 

Victor and Yakov looked over toward the door, where Yuuri was now hovering awkwardly. He cautiously entered the room, returning to Victor’s side. His eyes were red rimmed, but he wasn’t actively crying anymore.

“You will?” 

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah...I heard what you said. I was just in the hallway and the walls are surprisingly thin,” he explained sheepishly. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll skate tomorrow. And if I make it to the Grand Prix Finals, I’ll win gold for you. But you have to do like Yakov said and listen to your doctor. And you have to go to all your appointments that we set up back in Japan.” 

Victor held out his hand. “Deal.” 

Yuuri grasped it, squeezing tightly. 

After some hesitant goodbyes, Yuuri returned to the hotel with Yakov. Victor hated being alone here, but he knew Yuuri wouldn’t sleep if he stayed. Victor busied himself by making a list of how he was going to divide up his assets. He would leave money for the Katsukis of course, to make sure Yuuri could keep skating and the inn could stay open, but he also wanted to leave money to Ice Castle Hasetsu. The two places that had become like home to Victor. Plus, there was the rescue he got Makkachin from, and a program that provided skating gear and instruction for underprivileged youth. Fortunately, Victor had plenty of wealth to go around. He’d also need to leave enough money to make sure Makkachin was taken care of for the rest of her life. He knew the Katsukis would take good care of her regardless, but he didn’t want to financially burden them any more than he already had. Yakov could have his medals and costumes to display, and Yuri could have his apartment when he was old enough to live on his own. It was close to the rink and he’d be able to bring his cat. There were other small items that Victor distributed, and the rest could be donated or sold, he didn’t care. Except his skates. Yuuri would get those. Yuuri was the only one he’d trust to take care of the equipment that had brought him so many victories and good fortune. Maybe he could display them at Yutopia or Ice Castle and drum up some business. Of course he’d have to contact a lawyer to make everything official, but he at least knew who was going to get what. 

The coughing fits were better with the medication he’d been put on, but it didn’t completely stop them. Victor still found himself coughing up flowers in the middle of the night, but it was less often than usual. He actually managed to sleep, waking the next day to fingers carding through his hair. 

Yuuri was smiling down at him, looking worn and anxious. His morning practice with Yakov had gone well, although he’d left a bit early to make sure he had time to catch a taxi to the hospital. Yakov had offered to drive him, but there was a media shitstorm that had to be dealt with, so Yakov took care of that while Yuuri snuck out the back of the hotel. 

For the first time in his life, Victor had forgotten about social media. “What are people saying about what happened?”

Yuuri furrowed his brows. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Yuuri…” 

With a sigh, Yuuri relented. “They know. I mean, there are multiple videos and pictures of you coughing up flowers and being taken away on a stretcher. Yakov tried to shield you, but there was only so much he could do. The press has been hounding me for a comment.” 

“What did you say?” 

“Yuri jumped in and told them where to shove their microphones,” Yuuri chuckled. 

Victor laughed, his first genuine joy since he’d woken up. “He really does care.” 

Yuuri nodded. “He does. I think he’s really worried. He kept asking about you, but of course he pretended like it didn’t really matter to him either way.” 

“Sounds like Yuri.” 

“Mhm.” 

They chatted for a little longer, and then Yuuri had to call a taxi to get back to the arena. He’d be cutting it close before his warm up, so he couldn’t stay any longer. Victor turned on the TV, tuning in to the competition. He didn’t care for the Canadian Skater, but everyone else looked strong. Victor heard his name multiple times, as announcers discussed who could have possibly stolen his heart and refused his affections. Yuuri’s name came up a few times as well, as the nature of their relationship wasn’t particularly a secret. Victor tried not to pay too much attention to it, not wanting to hear what was being speculated about his life. 

When Yuuri stepped on the ice, Victor held his breath. Yuuri was nodding along to something Yakov was saying, but Victor could tell that he looked exhausted. Victor blew a kiss to the TV as Yuuri took his place at center ice. Despite the technical mishaps, Victor could feel Yuuri’s emotions on the other side of the television screen. But would it be enough? Victor wasn’t a nail biter, but he found himself chewing on his nails as Yuuri’s scores were announced. At the end of the competition, Yuuri had just barely squeaked into the final six, his place at the GPF secured. 

He texted Yuuri immediately, congratulating him. Yuuri responded with a polite thank you, but when he visited Victor later, he expressed how relieved he was. Neither of them had been sure how Yuuri would fare after the events of the previous day. 

Yuuri had extended his stay in the hotel while Victor recovered enough to fly home. Victor tried to insist on Yuuri flying home first to get more ice time, but he refused to entertain the idea. Instead, the compromise was that Yuuri would make use of the hotel’s gym. Victor didn’t like knowing Yuuri was missing out on practice so close to the GPF, but he selfishly also didn’t want Yuuri so far from him. 

Yuri and Yakov visited, along with some of Victor’s old rinkmates that had been in town for the competition. Yuri brought katsudon piroshki, which both he and Yuuri ate with gusto as Yuri proudly explained that his grandpa had made them. Everyone avoided asking Victor too many questions, which he appreciated. With Yakov’s help, Victor drafted an official statement for him and Yuuri to appease the press with. It didn’t give details about Victor’s condition, but confirmed that he had been ill and was doing alright. There was no point in hiding it now that the world had seen him hacking up flowers on international television. 

By the time Victor was weaned off of oxygen and back in Hasetsu, there were more than 100 gifts and cards sent to Yutopia by well meaning fans. Victor felt guilty about how much space everything was taking up, but Hiroko brushed off his concerns. Victor found it a little odd that people were sending flowers, given his condition, but Hiroko displayed them proudly nonetheless. She never complained about the influx of cards or packages that left the mail person flustered and overwhelmed. Mari took care of turning away the overzealous fans that decided to show up to wish Victor well in person. Victor took pride in being nice to his fans, so he at least made an effort to offer some signed photos for their trouble, even if he didn’t particularly want people to see him so sick. 

Fortunately, the medications helped. Victor could breathe easier, and he didn’t seem to cough up flowers as often. The doctor they found in Hasetsu chastised him for waiting so long to be seen, and Yuuri grumbled in agreement during the entire rant. It wasn’t enough to stop the coughing fits, but Victor really did feel better. He’d been worried about making it to the GPF with Yuuri, but with his new medicine, he felt like he’d be alright. 

The media storm wasn’t any better when they arrived in Barcelona. The press continued to hound them for more information, cornering them at the airport and outside the hotel. Other than their prepared statements, both Yuuri and Victor brushed them off. 

Chris gave Victor an earful for not taking care of himself. He’d already called Victor and given him a piece of his mind, but apparently he had more to say. Yakov acknowledged with a grunt that Victor looked better, Yuri mumbling in agreement beside him. The rest of the competitors kept looking at Victor with pity in their eyes, so Victor did his best to ignore them. It was difficult, especially when he had a coughing fit during Yuuri’s practice, causing at least three concerned coaches to rush over and check if he needed a medic. Victor brushed them off, tucking the roses he’d coughed up into his pocket so he could throw them away later. 

To Victor’s surprise, when Yuuri’s practice was done, he asked to go sightseeing. Victor had expected him to want to sleep, but Yuuri obviously had something in mind. Victor went along happily, his arm around Yuuri’s waist whenever possible. He didn’t know how much time they had left together, so he wanted to make the most of it. Yuuri seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he was uncharacteristically interested in selfies and tourist destinations. Victor didn’t mind. He loved every second with Yuuri. 

As they sat side-by-side on a bench, Victor sighed sadly, prompting Yuuri to look over at him. “I just wish we had more time,” Victor explained. “There’s so much more I want to see.”

Yuuri hummed contemplatively. “Well, we can do more sightseeing after the final. We have some time before we have to fly back.”

Victor shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you--oh. Right.” Yuuri looked away as he rubbed away tears. “You’re doing so much better, though.”

“Yeah. I just don’t know how long it will last,” Victor admitted. “I wish I could stay by your side forever.” 

Yuuri’s eyes sparkled, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he took Victor’s hand, pulling him up. They adjusted their grips on their numerous shopping bags, and then Yuuri was leading them  _ somewhere _ . Victor didn’t say anything, just watched Yuuri think through whatever was on his mind. They ended up in a Christmas market, the smell of mulled wine and evergreen permeating the air. 

“Your birthday’s coming up,” Yuuri said suddenly. 

“It is,” Victor confirmed. 

“We should do something special.” 

“Oh?” 

Yuuri nodded. “Just in case…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to.  _ Just in case it’s my last one,  _ Victor thought bitterly. “I’d like that,” he responded quietly. 

Yuuri squeezed his hand. Then suddenly, Yuuri stopped dead in his tracks, causing Victor to bump into him. Victor made a questioning sound, but Yuuri wasn’t paying attention. He was staring straight ahead at...a jewelry store? Victor didn’t have time to ask any questions, because Yuuri was dragging him along into the store. Yuuri nervously walked over to the display case, muttering to himself and looking over various displays. 

When Yuuri pointed out a pair of golden rings, Victor’s eyes widened. What was he doing? 

Yuuri didn’t waver, even when the cashier rang up the price. And then, he was dragging Victor back out of the store and toward a cathedral. His heart skipped a beat as Yuuri spoke quietly over the singing chorus. Yuuri was really doing this. He was taking Victor’s hand, and putting a ring on his finger. And Victor found himself returning the favor, sliding a matching ring onto Yuuri’s finger. They grinned at each other, and Victor reveled in the feeling of happiness and love that he felt. He never thought he’d have this. He just wished it could last forever. 

Victor’s happiness lasted through dinner, when Chris and Victor took turns teasing Yuuri about the Sochi banquet. It lasted through the night when they held each other closely, legs tangled together under the sheets. It lasted even when Yuuri didn’t place as well as he’d hoped after his short program. Victor only felt his happiness fade as Yuuri took his hands in a dark hotel room, and said, “Let’s end this.” 

It didn’t make sense. After everything they’d been through, after putting a ring on his finger, Yuuri was going to leave him? Bitterly, Victor realized it was probably better that way. Yuuri had become too attached already, and it was going to hurt him when Victor died. It was probably for the best that they cut ties now, so Yuuri could spare himself some of the pain. He felt the tears streaming down his cheeks.

There was a hand brushing through his hair. “Victor…?” 

“I understand.” He wanted to be angry. He wanted to push Yuuri’s hand away, but he couldn’t. It hurt too much. 

“I didn’t expect you to cry.” 

That made Victor cry harder. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make this harder for you. It’s for the best. I get it.” 

“What--” Yuuri’s eyes widened, and his arms wrapped around Victor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean  _ us _ . I mean, I did, but not like that!” He babbled frantically. “I want to be with you, for how ever much time you have left, and that’s why we need to end your coaching agreement. I don’t want to have to split my time between you and skating.” 

“That’s--oh.” Victor didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t want to stop coaching Yuuri. Yuuri’s skating was beautiful, and coaching him had given Victor a sense of purpose that he’d lost ages ago. But, Yuuri was right. It had already been difficult to manage Victor’s health with his coaching responsibilities. And when he had his worst days, he wasn’t much of a coach anyway.

“I’m so sorry Victor, I didn’t mean to make you think I wanted to leave!” He held Victor tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Victor returned the embrace. “You’re probably right. I don’t want you to stop skating, but I don’t know if I can be the coach you need. It’s so hard to stand upright sometimes, let alone skate.” He inhaled shakily. “Just promise me that when I’m gone, you won’t give up. Go back to Celestino, or call Yakov, but don’t give up because I’m not there.” 

“I don’t know if I can skate without you,” Yuuri admitted, his voice cracking. “But if it’s what you want, I’ll try.” 

“Thank you.” He leaned back so he could look Yuuri in the eye. Both of them were crying and sniffling. “You have so much more to give this sport. I just wish I could be here to see it.” 

Yuuri gripped at whatever part of Victor he could reach. “I love you. I love you so much, and I’m going to prove it with a gold medal tomorrow.” 

Victor smiled, a sad watery thing, but genuine. “Good. I really want to kiss a gold medal.” He settled for kissing Yuuri, a sweet, tender peck on the lips. They couldn’t go further tonight, not with Yuuri skating tomorrow, but they did hold each other close as they slept. 

Miraculously, Victor slept through the night. He didn’t know the last time that happened. His throat was a little scratchy, but that morning he only coughed up a few black petals. It was still uncomfortable, but preferable to thorny stems and full blooms. 

He watched Yuuri warm up, a strange sensation in his chest. It didn’t hurt, but it felt odd. He was just glad his medications were working well that day. Victor was breathing well, and he didn’t feel like he’d pass out during Yuuri’s program this time. He coughed up one single petal before Yuuri got back on the ice for his program, but he was relieved that he didn’t have a repeat of what happened in Moscow. 

As Yuuri skated over to him, Victor was at a loss for words. What could he even say to Yuuri that would convey what he was feeling right now? He settled for bringing Yuuri’s hand to his lips, kissing the gold ring. 

Yuuri blushed beautifully, smiling warmly. “Victor,” he started, saving Victor from needing to think of any words. “I…” he hesitated, and then the fire was back in his eyes. “Watch me?” 

Victor chuckled. “As if I could look away.” 

Yuuri nodded resolutely, leaning in to kiss Victor on the cheek. Victor rubbed the spot where Yuuri’s lips had touched him, certain his mouth was hanging open like a fish. Something felt different. Victor’s thoughts were confirmed as Yuuri took his place at center ice, a soft, contemplative look on his face that Victor had never seen before. As the music started, he smiled at Victor, and then he moved. 

Victor couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t because of the roots in his lungs. Yuuri’s performance had reached a whole new level, and Victor was afraid that if he breathed, or blinked, he’d miss something. He didn’t want to miss a second of the beauty that was unfolding in front of him. Victor knew he was crying, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know how to put into words what he was seeing, or what he was feeling, but he didn’t want it to end. The strange feeling in his chest melted into warmth as Yuuri landed his quad flip. It was perfect. Everything about the program had been perfect, and Victor was almost sad to see it end. As Yuuri held his final pose, Victor inhaled a shaky breath, and then froze. He breathed in again, then again. It didn’t hurt. In fact, he almost felt dizzy as he took more deep breaths, like he was getting more oxygen than his body was used to. He held his hand over his chest as he breathed, and the shaky, rattling feeling that had been present for months was gone. 

Yuuri was rushing off the ice, looking concerned about Victor’s odd reaction. Victor ran to him, laughing at how much lighter his breaths felt even with exertion. He ran full force into Yuuri, almost knocking him over. He kept laughing and crying, kissing every inch of Yuuri’s face that he could reach.

“Umf, Victor! We have to go to the Kiss and Cry!” Yuuri protested through his own laughter. 

With a grin, Victor pulled Yuuri over to the Kiss and Cry. When Yuuri broke his record, Victor pulled him into a passionate kiss that left the crowd roaring. “You,” he started when he finally broke the kiss, “are amazing.” 

Yuuri blushed, but looked proud. He waved to the crowd, and Victor did the same, before dragging Yuuri to the most private area he could find. There were still people milling around, but it was secluded enough. 

“What changed?” Victor prompted. “I’ve never seen you perform like that before.” 

Yuuri smiled gently. “This whole time, I’ve been skating my love for Victor Nikiforov, champion ice skater and media darling. That’s who I fell in love with when I was 12,” Yuuri explained. “But it’s not who I love now, and it just took me some time to figure it out.”

“Yuuri?” 

Yuuri took both of Victor’s hands. “I love the silly, stubborn man that clings to me like an octopus at night. I love how much he loves his dog. I love how he makes mistakes sometimes but still isn’t afraid of trying. I love  _ you _ . Not the version of you that’s on a poster, just you.” 

Victor hadn’t realized how much he longed to hear that. He gently grasped Yuuri’s cheeks, tipping their foreheads together. “I love you too, so, so much.” 

They missed their first set of interviews, but they reappeared to hear the final standings. Yuuri missed gold by a fraction of a point. Victor was worried he’d be disappointed, but he just turned to his coach and grinned. “Well, I guess I need to keep skating a little longer to get you that gold medal. Think you can handle that?” 

Victor smiled, a lightness in his chest that he’d forgotten he could feel. “Make it five gold medals, and you have a deal.” 


	4. Forbidden Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Forbidden love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kingdom name credit: Genesis3Chi cuz I'm real bad at coming up with names of things!
> 
> SO. I actually really love this idea and I'm very tempted to write more, but I already have so many WIPs that I don't want to add on another. However, if you would be interested in a multichapter re-write of this, lmk and I'll add it to my list! 
> 
> CW: Pretty light angst, brief mentions of past trauma

Yuuri was doomed from the moment he set eyes on the crown prince of Yralis. They were both just boys then, the crown prince a few years older, but Yuuri knew even then that he was special. Silver hair cascading down to his waist, eyes bluer than the bluest sea, and delicate lips that curled into a heart shape when he was excited. Yuuri had never seen anyone like him. He was ethereal, too beautiful to be real. Yet there he was, atop a white stallion, the very picture of poise and grace. 

The memory of that day was seared in his brain, because it was the day that changed his life forever. He remembered pulling out of his sister’s grasp to get a closer look. He remembered the fanfare of the visiting royals, who had come to Hiponia to strengthen ties between their kingdoms. He remembered gazing up at the prince, who was waving at the crowd, tossing blue roses to his admirers. Yuuri wanted to know him, even if it was a foolish thing to want.

When the prince’s eyes briefly locked onto his, a smile on his beautiful face, Yuuri almost swooned. He’d never forget the feeling of those eyes on him. He only wished he could feel that gaze again. And later that evening, when the prince was treated to a performance by Hiponia’s most talented dance troupe, Yuuri knew what he had to do. It was obvious by the way the prince’s face lit up that he was loving the performance, and that his admiration was genuine. Yuuri was fortunate enough to have a good view of the stage, but he spent most of the performance watching the prince, enjoying how his eyes sparkled when he was excited. That’s what Yuuri wanted, for the prince to look at _him_ like that. So after the prince and the rest of the royal court of Yralis returned to their own kingdom, Yuuri resolutely told his parents he wanted to be a dancer. 

His family laughed good naturedly, promising more lessons with his childhood instructor. For someone like him, dancing was part of life. But to make it his life’s goal? He was too young to know that his life was not suited for such a thing. Still, his parents indulged him, enjoying seeing their youngest child so happy. They assumed he would grow out of his obsession, not understanding the reason behind it. 

He didn’t. His instructor Minako didn’t care whether or not he’d ever dance in front of a crowd. She still drilled him and pushed him beyond his limits, molding Yuuri into a lithe, elegant, danseur. Even as he got older and the pressures of his family’s responsibilities started to weigh on his shoulders, Yuuri danced. He danced when he was anxious. He danced when he was happy. And he danced for a pair of blue eyes that were seared into his memory. 

It was silly, ridiculous even, for a person like him to desire to be a dancer in a foreign prince (now king)’s court. But that’s what Yuuri wanted. When he danced, he imagined himself on a grand stage, the king of Yralis watching with rapt attention in the front row. And then after the show, the king himself would approach Yuuri, offering him a single blue rose and a kiss on the hand. Even if adulthood made Yuuri aware of just how impossible his dream was, he didn’t give up on it. 

His family kept giving him more responsibilities, chastising him for dancing instead of doing what he was told. It was clear that the time he’d been granted as a wide-eyed child was now gone, replaced with heavy expectations placed on the shoulders of a young man. Yuuri hated it. He hated being told he was “born” to do it. All he wanted was to dance for those blue eyes. 

So maybe he should have been more suspicious when a mysterious stranger offered him just that opportunity, but Yuuri couldn’t resist. His family had started talking about marriage and finding him a suitor, though not to his face. He’d overheard the conversation from the shadows, covering his mouth to keep himself from screaming his displeasure. Mari was the eldest child, so why was it falling to Yuuri to offer his life to some foreign stranger? Yuuri didn’t stay past hearing about how much it would strengthen their family, feeling disgusted that his parents would discuss such a thing without him. 

It was that conversation that drove Yuuri to the tavern in the first place. Normally, Yuuri didn’t drink. But when a beautiful man offered, and Yuuri was already feeling down on himself, he didn’t say no. He should have, knowing what was expected of him, but he didn’t. The man was kind, listening to him, offering a sympathetic ear. And he kept the drinks coming. Yuuri found himself spilling his secrets and his desires to the man, unable to stop himself from talking. When the man’s eyes sparkled as he told Yuuri he was a member of the Yralis royal court, Yuuri shouldn’t have believed him. But Yuuri was drunk, and the man was offering him the chance to dance for the king of Yralis. Yuuri shouldn’t have agreed to follow the man out of the tavern, but he wouldn’t have been able to walk home in the state he was in, anyway. When the man pulled him into an ally, Yuuri was too drunk to fight. He didn’t remember much of that first night, other than voices that were muted by a sack over his head and a ringing in his ears. He recognized enough to realize they were discussing prices, and that’s when Yuuri realized what a horrible mistake he’d made. 

He tried not to think about those early days. They were dark, and painful. He supposed he was luckier than some, not having to suffer through certain horrors, but it didn’t make his life all that much better. Mostly, it was physical labor. For a long time, he belonged to a group of rebels. Every night, Yuuri found himself praying that they wouldn’t recognize him. If they knew who he was, things would get so much worse. He hated aiding a group that was trying to tear Hiponia apart, but he’d seen what his fellow captives went through when they disobeyed, so he kept his head down and did what he was told.

After the rebel group was defeated, Yuuri ended up in service to a noble in a neighboring kingdom. It wasn’t horrible, but it also wasn’t freedom. Yuuri had hoped his new keeper would let him go when he explained he had been taken against this will, but the head of the house had just shrugged with indifference. That night, he’d doubled the guards, killing any hope of escape that Yuuri had. 

Yuuri thought he’d be in the service there until the master of the house died, but one day, he was shoved into a carriage and taken far away from the estate. After more than a week of travel that left Yuuri stiff and aching, it became obvious what their destination was. 

Yralis. Yuuri recognized the castle towers from the books he had read as a child, hoping to learn as much about his favorite foreign prince as possible. When his master’s servant dragged Yuuri before the throne, Yuuri was so entranced by the blue eyes that had haunted his dream that he forgot to bow. The servant smacked him upside the head, and Yuuri came back to himself. He dropped to the ground, his forehead touching the floor. For the status that had been forced upon him, this was the only appropriate posture. As the servant addressed the king, Yuuri’s stomach twisted as he realized what was going on. He was being gifted to the royal court, to the king himself. 

It was quite disrespectful to do so, but Yuuri looked up, immediately regretting it. The king was eying him, looking curious. Yuuri blushed, averting his gaze and hoping the king would be kind enough to not have him beheaded for disrespecting him. Fortunately, the king said nothing of his rudeness. In fact, the king did not address him at all, and then the servant was bowing again. The deal was done. Yuuri could speak enough of their tongue to know what was being discussed. Even if his upbringing had not required him to learn the language of their neighboring kingdom, Yuuri would have learned it anyway just to feel closer to his royal obsession. 

Yuuri barely held back a grimace as the servant said the word: concubine. 

Yuuri almost wanted to laugh. All he’d wanted was to find his way to the king’s court, and he’d done it. Except instead of being a prized dancer, he was the king’s _whore_. How had this happened to him? This wasn’t supposed to be his life? Even if he could escape now, how would he be able to face his family after all of this shame?

He was so wrapped up in his misery that Yuuri didn’t realize he was being addressed until the servant smacked him again. “How dare you ignore a direct question from His Majesty!” He wound up for another smack, but it was interrupted by an authoritative voice.

“That’s quite enough.”

Yuuri flinched. Oh god, was that _his_ voice? He’d spent so much time wondering and imagining, but the real thing was so much better than anything he’d come up with. It was like silk. 

There was the sound of shuffling, and then two very expensive boots were in front of Yuuri’s face. His gaze wandering up, past ankles, legs, thighs--oh no. He snapped his head back down. “Forgive my rudeness, your Majesty.” Was he really going to ogle the king?! He was going to end up imprisoned at this point!

To Yuuri’s surprise, there was a gentle hand on each arm, and then he was being pulled up. This time, Yuuri couldn’t help letting his gaze wander, until he was staring into the blue eyes of his dream. The blue eyes of His Majesty, King Victor Nikiforov III of Yralis. Somehow, they were bluer than Yuuri remembered. His hair was cut short, but it suited him. Yuuri also couldn’t help but notice his expression didn’t look as carefree as when he was a boy, but that wasn’t surprising given he’d had to rule a kingdom as a teen following the untimely death of both his parents. 

The king was smiling gently, which was shocking considering how many rules Yuuri was breaking. He knew how he was supposed to behave in a royal court, and standing inches away from the king with his mouth hanging open like a dead fish was not it. For whatever reason, the king didn’t seem to mind. 

“I asked you what your name is,” the king repeated. It must have been the question Yuuri missed. 

“Yuuri.” Remembering his manners again, Yuuri started to bow, only to practically knock his head into the king with how close they were. 

Still, the king did not seem upset. “Yuuri…?” he inquired. 

“Just Yuuri.” He had all but abandoned his claim to his surname after drunkenly following his kidnapper into a dark alley. Certainly now he had no right to taint his family’s name with his foolishness. 

The king’s smile remained. “Well, ‘Just Yuuri’, welcome to Yralis.”

That should have been it. He should have become just another concubine, to be used at the king’s leisure. Except, he wasn’t. The king never touched him. Well, that wasn’t true. He touched Yuuri _all the time_ , but not in a way that was unsavory. Just fleeting touches on Yuuri’s arms, or brushing their fingers together. Things that left Yuuri a sputtering mess despite their innocent nature.

The first time the king had summoned him, Yuuri had almost been in tears. Sure, he’d admired His Majesty for years, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be his bed warmer. Except, when he arrived in the king’s private chambers, he was greeted by a wide grin and a very large, very excited poodle. Per the king’s request, he tended to the dog, Makkachin ( _Dutchess_ Makkachin, according to the king). And then somehow, he found himself being named the official Royal Dog Walker. Instead of spending his days in the king’s bed, he spent them in the gardens, playing with Makkachin while the king was in meetings. 

And if after his meetings he took a little extra time to ask Yuuri about his day, Yuuri wasn’t going to complain. Somehow, that turned into late night conversations that were definitely inappropriate for royalty, but who would be the one to tell the king that? Yuuri avoided questions giving too many details about his past, but he found himself opening up to the king in a way he hadn’t expected. And the king opened up to him in return. 

The night he asked Yuuri to call him “Victor” in private was also the night they shared their first kiss. 

It was almost funny, how _kissing_ Victor was a scandal, considering the purpose that he had been delivered to the kingdom for. Serving as Victor’s bedmate was one thing, but kissing him in the garden was apparently another. Not that anyone knew about it. Victor had made sure they were alone before gently cupping Yuuri’s cheeks and asking to kiss him. 

From there, Yuuri was lost. Chaste pecks on the lips turned to passionate kisses shared in Victor’s bed. Passionate kisses turned into wandering hands. Wandering hands turned into the slide of their bodies against each other. He had been brought to Yralis to be the king’s whore, but ended up as his lover. 

Somehow, that made things infinitely more complicated, especially when the Royal Council kept sending suitors to try and win Victor’s heart. If he had been just a concubine, it wouldn’t have mattered. He could have kept Victor satisfied during his evenings, while the king played host to neighboring royalty during the day. Yuuri _did_ do that, but he lacked the detachment that a person of his status should have. He loved Victor, and that was the worst possible thing a concubine could do. Victor could never be his. 

So Yuuri watched the courting, and the suitors. Men and women, throwing themselves at the handsome king of Yralis. Victor was beautiful, and Yralis was prosperous. That was all that mattered to the suitors. And Yuuri hated them all. They brought gifts; extravagant gems, territory, and exotic animals. One of the suitors, something Leroy, brought an entire harem to gift to Victor. Great beauties from his kingdom, dressed in the finest garments. 

Yuuri watched them flirt with Victor, touching him, feeding him fruit from their hands. Victor indulged them, he had to. It would be a horrible sleight against the other kingdom to ignore such a gift. So Yuuri watched, from his place in the back of the room, as the most beautiful people Yuuri had ever seen lavished attention on his beloved. The worst part was, Yuuri couldn’t leave. Considering Victor had granted him special permission to be in the throne room at all, it would be incredibly rude of him to leave in the middle of a reception of a foreign suitor. The Council might be turning a blind eye to Yuuri now, but they wouldn’t be able to if he was outwardly rude in court. 

Something painful twisted in Yuuri’s gut. This was the reality of loving someone he couldn’t have. At best, Victor would marry a foreign suitor, leaving Yuuri as the other man in his life. It was common for royalty to do such a thing, when they had a favorite concubine, but Yuuri couldn’t stand the idea of being Victor’s mistress. Even if it was socially acceptable for _Victor_ to sleep around, Yuuri could be killed by his lover’s jealous spouse. Plus, Yuuri hated the idea of sharing him. Maybe he was selfish, but he wanted Victor to be his. He didn’t want to see Victor kiss someone else, or know that he was making love to someone else (as would be expected of him with a new spouse). The thought of someone else’s hands on Victor’s body made Yuuri feel physically sick. 

And that was the best case scenario where he got to keep seeing Victor. It was more likely that Victor would realize Yuuri wasn’t worth his time and send him away. Whether it was out of obligation to his new spouse, or because he fell in love with them, Yuuri would lose out. 

Basically, Yuuri would have to settle for watching the love of his life start a family with someone else, or be sent to yet another master who might not be as kind and gentle as Victor. Yuuri heard stories of what happened to disgraced concubines, and he did not want to experience them for himself. Maybe he could beg Victor to sell him off to a noble family? Surely Victor felt enough affection for him to not let him suffer. 

Every time Victor denied a suitor, Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief. It was a little bit more time they’d get together, even if it would have to come to an end eventually. Victor had to choose a suitor eventually, it was in his kingdom’s best interest. The fact that he had managed this long without being married off was quite remarkable, but even Yuuri knew the Council was not happy about it. Their time was running out. 

Yuuri could practically feel the clock ticking. He spent every moment he could with Victor in the evenings, watching the king be courted during the day. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong.

That particular day, Yuuri was out in the gardens with Makkachin, like he always was when the weather was nice. They strolled through the hedge maze, Yuuri now familiar with every turn. This was where he and Victor would sneak off to during the day, stealing kisses and exchanging loving words. Knowing that this place was special to them, Yuuri felt his stomach drop as he heard voices approaching. One of them was Victor, the other was the foreign prince who had arrived to court him. It was ridiculous for Yuuri to think that this was _their_ place, but he found himself thinking it anyway. Jealousy, hot and bitter, twisted like a knife in Yuuri’s gut. He took a turn, knowing he’d be out of view from the courting couple. Makka followed dutifully when Yuuri called, even though he could tell she was longing to run toward her owner’s voice. 

Yuuri peeked through the hedge, not feeling even remotely guilty for spying on his lover and his suitor. The man with Victor was quite beautiful (though not as beautiful as Victor, of course), with blond curls and bright green eyes. He had his hand low on Victor’s back, and Victor was laughing brightly at something he said. Victor looked genuinely happy, and the suitor looked quite comfortable touching Victor. Even worse, Victor looked comfortable being touched. Yuuri should have walked away. He should have taken Makkachin and left that place, but instead, he did something stupid.

Yuuri stepped out from around the corner, Makkachin boofing happily as her owner came into view. Victor and the foreign prince turned toward him, surprised. They lavished attention on Makkachin for a few moments, before Yuuri bowed and addressed them. “Good morning your Majesty, your Highness. Please excuse this interruption, but I have an urgent matter that His Majesty needs to attend to right away.” 

Victor looked confused, but turned toward his suitor with a wide grin. “Ah, Christophe, will you excuse me for a moment?” 

The prince, Christophe, kissed both of Victor’s cheeks. Yuuri tried not to gag. “Of course, darling. Take your time.” He winked. 

Yuuri kept the polite smile plastered on his face, even though he wanted to smack the prince for touching Victor. He settled for bowing politely, as that was what was expected of him, then he led Victor deeper into the maze. When he stopped, Victor stopped beside him.

“Yuuri, what--” 

Yuuri didn’t give him time to ask questions, pulling him in for a heated kiss. Victor melted into the kiss, responding beautifully as Yuuri tangled his hands in Victor’s hair. They pressed together, and Yuuri knew it was wrong, that they shouldn’t be doing this while Victor was out with a suitor, but Yuuri didn’t care. He placed his hands low on Victor’s back, where the prince’s had been. He didn’t want Victor to feel anyone’s touch but his. They were so engrossed in the kiss, neither of them heard the gasp, or saw the pair of wide eyes that peered around the corner. They kept kissing, until both of them were short of breath. 

Victor pulled back, but not before pressing a final kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “I didn’t know how much I needed that,” he murmured breathlessly. “Having not one, but two potential suitors in one day is draining.” 

“Two?” Yuuri frowned, he’d only seen one.

“The second isn’t set to arrive until later,” Victor explained. “I don’t think she’s particularly interested in me, but we both have to entertain the idea for the good of our kingdoms. I was actually betrothed to her brother, for a time, but he vanished years ago.” 

Yuuri hummed in contemplation. “Well, I’ll be waiting for you later, to help you relax after such a stressful day.” He smirked.

“I can’t wait,” Victor murmured, leaning in for a few more brief kisses. 

As much as neither of them wanted to separate, they had to. Victor had to return to Christophe before the prince got suspicious. Yuuri smoothed his hair down before he left, hoping he didn’t look too disheveled. Victor kissed his hand before they separated, whispering lowly that he’d see Yuuri later. 

Yuuri felt better the rest of the day. With Victor’s promise, he finished his chores with a smile on his face. At least, until a body slammed into him, pushing him to the ground and wrenching his arms behind his back. Hissing in pain, Yuuri looked up into the face of his attacker, ready to fight. Except, it wasn’t a random attacker, it was a palace guard. In fact, it was one of Victor’s personal guards. Mila, Yuuri remembered her name was. 

“What’s going on?” Yuuri managed to grunt out as he was hauled to his feet. 

“You’re being detained, by order of the Royal Council.” 

“What?! Why?!” 

Mila shoved him forward. “For charges of indecency against the Crown.” 

Yuuri almost stumbled as Mila spoke. Indecency? What was she talking about? “I’m a _concubine_ , indecency is sort of my job!” Yuuri protested, hoping to get himself out of whatever mess he’d fallen into.

“I don’t think it’s your job to assault His Majesty while he is entertaining a visitor from a foreign court,” Mila accused. 

“What?! That’s crazy! I didn’t do anything like that!” Yuuri protested. 

“That’s not the report I was given,” Mila responded. “An eye witness reported you forcing His Majesty into a kiss while out in the garden.” 

“It wasn’t like that!” he insisted. Yuuri tried to get more out of her, but Mila didn’t say anything else. She practically dragged Yuuri through the castle, down a set of dark, winding stairs that led to the dungeons. They walked past rows of prisoners who spat insults at them, or screamed claims of their innocence. Mila pushed him into an empty stall, pulling the door shut and locking it. 

As Mila was about to walk away, she hesitated, then leaned in to whisper something to Yuuri. “Since you arrived, His Majesty...Victor...has been happier than I’ve ever seen him.” She smiled sadly, then took her leave. 

Yuuri stared at the locked door in disbelief. He’d ruined everything. He knew he needed to be careful, but he’d let his possessiveness get the better of him. Now he’d be lucky to get out of here with his head on his shoulders. Victor might be the king, but that didn’t mean the Council couldn’t oppose his decisions. If they wanted to get rid of Yuuri and Victor protested, it could cause turmoil. How much of that would Victor endure before he decided Yuuri was better off dead or sold off to someone else? 

Collapsing into a heap, all Yuuri could do was cry. The ground was cold, and dirty, but Yuuri couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was such an idiot. How else could a relationship between a concubine and a king end? 

With no windows, Yuuri had no idea how much time passed. Eventually, Mila appeared again, keys in hand. Yuuri looked up hopefully, and she nodded solemnly. “His Majesty has requested your presence.” She unlocked the door gesturing for Yuuri to follow her. “He caused quite a scene, actually. There’s a foreign princess here but His Majesty has refused to see her until he speaks to you.” 

Yuuri remembered Victor saying another suitor was set to arrive. He felt guilty about causing yet even more trouble. He hoped that neither she nor prince Christophe would take out their frustrations on Victor. 

  
As Yuuri and Mila approached the massive doors to the throne room, they swung open. Victor was inside, pacing, while a few members of the council tried to speak to him. He snapped at them every time one of them opened their mouths. Victor looked up as the door opened, a look of relief crossing his face as he laid eyes on Yuuri. Yuuri tried to take a step forward, but Mila blocked him with her arm. 

“Let him through,” Victor demanded. 

And then Yuuri ran. Victor held his arms open, and Yuuri practically knocked him over. If he wasn’t in trouble before, he definitely was now. But he didn’t care, and Victor didn’t seem to care either. He was kissing Yuuri’s head, his face, anywhere he could reach. 

“My sweet, lovely Yuuri.” He held Yuuri tight, ignoring the protests from the council.

Yuuri held on just as tight, not knowing what to say. He looked up at Victor through tear filled eyes. “Victor--” 

There was a commotion outside the doors, and then they were swinging open again. “Your Majesty, care to tell me why you’ve kept me waiting for so long?” An irritated voice called out. 

Yuuri gasped. He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Turning around in disbelief, Yuuri burst into tears as he realized who had entered the throne room.   
  


“Mari?” 

  
  
  
  



	5. Mind Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Mind control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: Mild blood, mild violence

“Phichit, status report.” 

A concerned hum sounded through the line. “Nothing yet.” 

Victor swore. They were running out of time. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Victor’s lungs burned from exertion, and his muscles felt like jelly after so much running, climbing, and dodging. He had singe marks from near misses from his pursuer’s laser gun, as well as an assortment of cuts and bruises from his escape attempts. He’d been lucky so far, but he knew it wouldn’t last. No one could outrun an android, especially not a ER-05 model. The fact that he’d managed it so far was only because of his familiarities with how this particular model worked. And, he hoped, a little inside help. 

Victor just hoped he could buy them enough time for Phichit to do what he needed to do. Really, he just hoped it was possible for Phichit to do what he needed to do. There was no proof that he could, just a fool’s hope. 

“Shit,” Phichit bit out. “Incoming.” 

“How much time do I have?” 

There were a few more moments of silence, then another string of curse words. “None! He’s right on top of you!” 

Victor braced himself as best he could from his cramped hiding spot under the work desk. “How did he hide from your scanners?” 

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Phichit murmured a few words that Victor couldn’t understand. “We knew how fast ER-05’s can adapt, but this is insane.” 

Victor was inclined to agree, but he kept his mouth shut following the sound of shattering glass above him. He tensed, curling into the smallest ball possible. He just hoped Phichit’s cloakers were still keeping his heat signature hidden. If their proximity scanners weren’t working, who knew what else had been overridden? 

It was only years of training that kept Victor from calling out in shock as he heard a heavy thunk land a few feet to his right. Light footsteps trailed away from him, so quiet he wouldn’t have heard them if he didn’t know what to listen for. It seemed that his cloaker was still functional, or he would be dead already. Victor had hoped for a little more time before their chase began again, but now that his pursuer was here, he had no choice.

Victor crept out from under the desk, glancing around the dark warehouse for any sign of his attacker. It looked empty, but Victor knew danger was hiding somewhere nearby. He vaguely wished he still had his neural implant to see in the dark, but it was the price he paid to make himself more difficult to track. He wouldn’t have been able to join the rebellion if that stupid chip was still in his head, anyway. It made him too easy to find, and too easy to control. If only he’d known that those implants weren’t the only way to control people. 

As far as his normal (albeit still slightly enhanced) human senses could tell, the coast was clear. Staying light on his feet, Victor tiptoed his way behind a row of shelves filled with tools and metal scraps. It was one of at least a dozen shelves, lining the warehouse in symmetrical rows. Victor could only imagine that his pursuer was checking other rows for his target. Fortunately, this one was unoccupied, as far as Victor could see. He wasn’t naive enough to think that the android didn’t know he was here. In fact, Victor knew for a fact the android was well aware. ER-05’s weren’t marketed as the most advanced military androids without reason. 

Despite his efforts to stay quiet, Victor feared his pounding heart or heaving breaths would give him away. He knew they sounded louder to his ears than they probably really were, but if he could hear it at all, there was no doubt his pursuer could.

Carefully, Victor crept forward, lifting onto the balls of his feet to stay light and quiet. He could see a sliver of light through a gap in some shelving. That was his way out. There was no way he’d be able to climb back out of the window he came through fast enough to avoid being caught. Now he just had to sneak through a warehouse full of clanking metal shelves and scraps without the most advanced synthetic lifeform on the planet hearing him. Easier said than done. 

The sliver of light grew as Victor stepped over and around debris, making his way toward the door. Victor thought he was home free, until he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. It was only years of training, and a little bit of enhanced reflexes, that let him avoid the blow. He wasn’t, however, able to avoid all of the debris from the wall that was smashed next to him. 

Victor swore as rubble pelted him, almost making him lose his balance. He knew that wouldn’t be the only attack, and now he’d lost the element of surprise. So Victor ran, not caring how much noise he was making. He knew he couldn’t outrun the android, but if he could just make it out into the light, maybe he’d have a better chance to defend himself. Here, in the dark, he stood no chance against the android’s superior night vision. 

As Victor reached out to grab the door handle, he felt a weight slam into him. Victor tasted blood as he was shoved roughly into the wall, inches away from his only chance at salvation. The light spilling under the door was enough to illuminate the hand that was now holding him by the neck, all the way up to his attacker’s elbow. A set of glowing red eyes flashed as the fingers tightened around his throat. 

Victor fought, but it was useless. He tried to pry the fingers off him, but they held him like a vice grip. He could hear Phichit’s frantic voice in his ear, but his blood was pounding too loudly to make out what was being said. 

With his last gasp of air, Victor managed to wheeze out a few words. “Please...Yuuri...”

There was no acknowledgement of recognition. The corners of Victor’s vision were going black, and his lungs were starting to scream. He didn’t know why the android was taking his time, but it didn’t seem to be making his odds of escape any better. 

There was a sudden jolt originating from his ear piece, and then the shadowy figure in front of him shuddered and the fingers loosened. Victor gasped as he stumbled sideways, frantically pawing around for the door handle. He managed to grab hold of it, pushing his body weight against the door until it swung open. He landed face down in the grass, the sunlight briefly blinding him. 

“...Victor? Can you hear me?” 

Victor scrambled to his feet, coughing. “Yes,” he wheezed. “Do I have you to thank for my escape?” 

“Yeah,” Phichit replied. “I sent out a pulse that disrupted his system, but it won’t last. You need to move, now!” 

Victor looked around. Other than the warehouse, he was in an empty field. Based on how run down and rusted the building was, it must be pretty old. Likely from before the war, if Victor had to guess. There was nowhere else to go. He’d never outrun an ER-05 on a flat stretch like this. He was done. 

Standing up straight, Victor turned toward the warehouse door, where a low whirring sound was originating. “No.” 

“What? Are you crazy? He’ll kill you!” Phichit warned. 

“He might. Or he might not.” 

There was a heavy sigh. “Victor, we tried this already. His mind is gone, it’s not his own anymore. There’s no more Yuuri left.” 

“I have to try to reach him. It’s our only chance,” Victor reasoned. 

They didn’t have any more time to debate. The door Victor had exited through just a minute or so before was smashed off its hinges. Victor managed to dodge, barely staying on his feet. A hand reached out from the shadows, grasping at the door frame so hard it cracked. And then a pair of glowing red eyes followed. Eyes that once shined with love, but now stared blankly ahead. Victor had never thought Yuuri, his Yuuri was scary, even when seeing him in action. But right then, as his face was slowly becoming more illuminated by the light, he was terrifying. It wasn’t his love’s face that he was seeing, but a cold, mechanized assassin staring down his target. 

“Yuuri...please…” Victor tried again. He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m done running. I’m done fighting. Do what you need to do.” 

Yuuri’s pupils constricted and dilated rapidly, and Victor knew his threat level was being assessed. He tilted his head, studying Victor almost curiously. “Victor Nikiforov.” 

Despite the severity of the situation, Victor’s heart leapt at the sound of his love’s voice. For some reason he expected him to sound more mechanical, but he just sounded like Yuuri. That almost made it hurt even more. Victor’s throat was dry as he asked, “Do you know me?” 

“Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri repeated, “priority level 5. Prime suspect in the Sochi incident. Known high ranking member of the resistance.” 

Victor shook his head. “No, Yuuri. Do you know  _ me _ ?” 

Yuuri turned his head again, like he was processing. He took a single step toward Victor, then in the blink of an eye, his face was just inches from Victor’s. Victor stumbled backward, but Yuuri caught him by the front of his shirt. He curled his fist around the fabric, pulling Victor back toward him.

In a monotone voice, Yuuri announced, “Target apprehended.”

Maybe Victor should have fought. It would have been a futile effort, but Victor meant it when he said he was done running. Instead of trying to free himself, he covered Yuuri’s hand with his own. “I think,” he started, “you would have killed me already if you wanted to. I’m still alive because you’re allowing it. Because you know me. You know us.” 

Yuuri didn’t respond. With his face so close, Victor could see the circuits behind his eyes, sparking in quick succession. 

With Yuuri not actively trying to kill him, Victor continued, “Think, Yuuri. You’re more than your programming, you always have been. I know you don’t want to do this. Remember us. Remember what we’ve accomplished together.” 

Yuuri’s hand started to shake. Victor took a chance and tightened his grip over Yuuri’s closed fist. His finger gingerly traced the empty spot on Yuuri’s own finger where his ring should be. Those bastards must have taken it off of him. Victor could feel tears in his eyes. If he was going to die, at least he would be in the hands of his beloved. 

In a final act of desperation, Victor leaned forward, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s. He heard a shocked intake of breath, followed by Yuuri’s other hand grabbing another fistful of his shirt. Victor closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow. He heard the sound of Yuuri pulling his arm back, readying a punch. But it never came. Instead, a gentle hand cupped his cheek, and warm lips slotted against his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey I'm doing this again! Trying to get back into the swing of writing.


End file.
